


By Light-Years

by CJ1027



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJ1027/pseuds/CJ1027
Summary: Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley are professional Quidditch players and rivals, despite their secret (or not-so-secret) fancying of one another. As her brothers become mates with Harry, Ginny can't avoid her feelings much longer.This fanfiction is an alternate universe story LOOSELY based off of the plot (and structure) of the film "La La Land." Very loosely.





	1. Winter

**Author's Note:**

> As this takes place in an alternate timeline, here are some discrepancies from canon: James and Lily lived and helped defeat Voldemort (and due to that a lot of other characters are alive as well), and Harry and Hermione went to a different wizarding school than the Weasleys though that remains unspecified and not much talked about for plot purposes.

Ginny feels the heat in her face and can only assume by the look Demelza is giving her that she must be turning bright red. Her arms crossed and her eyebrows furrowed, Ginny has to hold herself back from practically scoffing at her own Quidditch captain. It’s absolutely ridiculous that the entire team is being told off right now when it was  _ clearly  _ Romilda’s error. 

Gwenog Jones, the captain, gives Ginny the opening she needs. “Something you’ve got to say, Weasley?”

“I have loads to say,” she starts. “I’m sorry, Gwenog. I know we’re a team and all but this is absolute bullshit right now-”

“Weasley-"

“We were up 140 points! The win  _ should  _ have been ours! Vane  _ clearly _ should have been paying attention, but she was obviously daydreaming, feeling safe to do so by the lead the rest of the team upheld for her!”

“I thought we were up 170! I’m sorry!” Romilda injects, sticking her nose in the air. “Just because you played seeker a bit in school-”

“Merlin,  _ please _ . You were ogling the enemy!”

“Enough, Weasley,” Jones asserts loudly. “Stay for a moment. The rest of you, go wash up and head home. I want you in a half hour earlier tomorrow for drills, alright?”

Ginny moves her hands to her hips, trying to mask the worry she feels of Gwenog wanting to speak to her alone. The others clear out and Demelza gives Ginny a look of sympathy as she walks out behind the rest of the team and closes the door.

“Out of line, Ginny,” Gwenog starts. “I understand you’re upset, but-”

“Gwenog,” Ginny says, attempting to cool down the blood boiling beneath her skin. “This is the third game this season where Romilda has made a blunder like that, and she’s lucky that the last time we  _ were  _ actually up by 170.”

Gwenog sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I am aware, and I will deal with Vane privately and separately. But this is also the third time you’ve spoken like that to her. I’m sorry, Weasley, but I’m going to have to ask you to stay home for tomorrow’s practice.”

Ginny feels her stomach drop at the absolute injustice of the situation. “And what good will that do?”

“It will help you cool off,” she states. “As I’ve said, we’re a team, and you can’t talk to your other teammates like that. I have no tolerance for it. Confront her calmly and speak like a level-headed adult, for Merlin’s sake.”

Ginny clenches her fist, taking a deep breath. “And wouldn’t you say it’s the team’s responsibility to make sure we are working  _ as  _ a cohesive team? How come I’m the only one holding her accountable? If she were really part of this team, she would take ownership of her errors and work on them.”

Gwenog looks at her for a moment, then puts a hand on her shoulder. Ginny usually loves Gwenog, but she has been testing her patience these past couple of months, and she fights the urge to shake her hand off of her. “I know how much you care about this team. And you are my star chaser. But I’m warning you...anything like that again, and you’ll be suspended from the next match. Understood?”

Ginny nods, lips tight. Gwenog pats her shoulder and strides away. The door shuts behind her and Ginny does her best to keep her tears at bay. She understands Gwenog’s desire to keep a peaceful environment, but it only seems to be making things worse. She sits there for a few more moments, gathers herself and her belongings, and strides out of the stadium locker rooms.

As she makes her way towards the stadium exit, she sees the strangest sight. Her brothers, Ron, Fred, and George all chatting up with Harry Potter, Puddlemore’s seeker. Ron’s ears are a bit red and Fred and George are high fiving as Harry laughs. She is tempted to back into the locker room until Potter leaves but before she could even turn around Fred spots her. “Gin!”

She stops in her tracks and puts on a thin-lipped smile, and she knows her brothers can see right through it. Fred and George approach her, but Ron, for some unforeseen reason, stays behind to keep chatting it up with Potter. “You were bloody fantastic,” George tells her, messing her hair. “One hundred points and ten assists!”

“Absolutely mad,” Fred adds, patting her back. “A shame your seeker is an idiot.”

Ginny snorts, but appreciatively. “Yeah, tell me about it. But I can’t go to practice tomorrow and I’m facing possible suspension for stating that obvious fact.”

“You’re serious?” asks Fred. “That’s rubbish.”

“You alright, Gin?” George questions, sensing her frustration.

She shrugs. “I just want to get out of here, honestly.”

“Alright, let’s grab fanboy Ronald over there,” Fred chuckles as they turn to walk towards Ron and the Puddlemore seeker, who seem to be laughing together. “We’ll apparate back to the Burrow for a bit, yeah? Dad wants to hear about the game.”

Ginny nods, marching forward towards her other brother. As she approaches, Harry Potter looks away from Ron and straight at Ginny, offering her a somewhat hesitant smile. Once close enough he says, “Hey, Ginny, right? I just wanted to tell you, you were brilliant out there, and-”

“Thanks,” she answers curtly, stealing the shortest of glances at his fallen smile before she shoves Ron and says, “C’mon, let’s go,” as she walks past him further towards the exit.

She crosses her arms and waits, staring away from her brothers and her opponent, when she hears the twins approach Harry and slap him on the back. “Sorry about her,” George apologizes. “She’s got a bit of a temper on her, that one.”

“And an awful competitive streak,” Fred chimes in.

“And too much pride,” adds George. “Isn’t that right, Gin?”

Without facing them, she sticks up her middle finger behind her back. All four boys laugh and she rolls her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently.

She listens as George, Fred, and Ron each say goodbye to Potter, hears him quickly mention her name once, and the conversation ending with something about a time tomorrow.

Once they reach her, Fred throws an arm around her. “Alright, miss brat, let’s get you home and fed so you could shrink back down a bit.”

Without responding, they all grab each other and apparate back to the Burrow. When they land and shake off the feeling of it, Ginny asks them, “What was that about tomorrow at eight?”

“Well if you hadn’t been so  _ rude _ maybe you’d know, hm?” Ron comments, clearly annoyed as they walk down the path to the back door.

“We invited Potter to visit Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Fred tells her, ignoring Ron’s attitude. “And he invited us to all get drinks afterward.”

“He was  _ going _ to ask you to join as well,” George informs her. “So he passed along the message to us. Said the invitation was open for you, if you wanted, although we insisted upon excluding you.”

“Insisted,” Fred repeats, smiling.

“I’ll pass,” Ginny says, undoing her braid as they walk. 

Ron groans. “What’s your deal? Didn’t you used to be in love with him or something?”’

“ _ No _ ,” Ginny responds, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“Gin, it’s us! You don’t have to lie,” Fred assures her. “We all remember your exclusive Potter commentary before you made the reserves two years ago.”

“You practically had his name doodled in your books.”

“Surprised you didn’t magically stick his poster to your ceiling.”

Ginny scoffs at them. Although she knows they aren’t wrong. And as mad as she is at Romilda, part of her doesn’t even blame her for ogling Potter. She has been attracted to him since the moment she first saw him in the Prophet when he made Puddlemore. And of course, she knew who he was before that, being James and Lily Potter’s son. But she doesn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of him again like she did the very first time she introduced herself her first year in the league. She knows if she pays too much attention to him on the pitch, she’ll become almost as distracted as Romilda. And as much as she would thoroughly enjoy both admiring his technique and ogling his fit physique, her high-quality Quidditch performance is at a much higher priority than a fit bloke she’s had a fangirl crush on for multiple years.

Although she  _ may _ have a rolled-up poster of him in her closet rather than plastered on her ceiling. That she opens up and glances at from time to time. Who’s really to say.

“Things change when someone becomes your competitor,” she shrugs, opening the back door that leads straight into the kitchen and going straight towards the fridge. She takes out the jug of pumpkin juice and pours some straight into her mouth, taking a big gulp. After she swallows, she turns back to her brothers, who are all sitting at the table. “Either way, Romilda is not even a  _ fraction  _ as talented as Katie was, and Potter tries to pull a Wronski Feint at least every other game because he’s so bleeding  _ fast  _ on his Firebolt that it works practically every time. He’s a pretty predictable player. She should have known.”

“The Potter commentary lives on!” exclaims George, raising a fist. “Keep it coming. What color are his eyes? When’s his birthday?”

Green. July 31st. “So I know one of his strategies. That’s my job. Study the enemy, you know? I just wish I could play seeker against him once to show them how it’s done, but I like being a chaser too much to even bother,” Ginny finishes before passes the pitcher of pumpkin juice to the boys. 

“Right, just about Quidditch tactics, got it,” snorts Ron, leaning back in his chair.

“No matter how many fun facts you know about him, the offer still stands for tomorrow,” Fred reminds her. “We won’t tell him about your crush, promise.”

“I don’t  _ have  _ a crush,” she groans, trying to convince her brothers and herself. “This is what I get for being nice and inviting you guys to VIP access for my matches...And Ron, why are you even going to meet with Potter? You’re a Cannons fan! Fraternizing with the enemy, now?”

Ron shrugs, summoning a muffin from the counter and taking a bite out of it. “I don’t know,” he says, mouth full of muffin. “He seems like a cool bloke, when he’s not destroying the Cannons at least.”

“Just when he’s destroying the Harpies, your own sister’s team,” Ginny bites.

“Be careful, Ron, or she’ll bat bogey you to smithereens,” Fred warns his brother.

“No hexing in the kitchen,” says Arthur, finally making his appearance. He kisses Ginny on the temple and smooths her hair. “Your mother is asleep on the couch, so you better take it outside. No need to tickle a sleeping dragon, ay?”


	2. Spring

Demelza comes over and hands her a butterbeer, of which she thankfully takes a rather large sip. A song by The Weird Sisters plays, and Demelza and Ginny start discussing enthusiastically their entire discography. They then dive into a conversation of how frustrating it is that The Hinkypunks, another wizard rock band, are celebrated much more than The Weird Sisters just because the lead singer is part veela. Ginny talks about how nauseating the song “My Felix Felicis” is.

Only two minutes later, the second eldest Weasley, Charlie, who is acting as party DJ tonight, asks the party if there are any requests.

“‘My Felix Felicis,’ by The Hinkypunks,” says a male’s voice loudly. It sounds close to her.

Charlie gives a thumbs up and the song starts to the crowd’s joy. Ginny growls, rolling her eyes. “Who in their right mind-”

“Great song, isn’t it?”

She turns to see who is speaking to her, and she truly can’t believe it. It makes sense that she wouldn’t have known, seeing as she’s almost never home. And she practically forgot the boys’ meetup, even though she beat herself up the next few days for not going with them, but he’s actually _there._ At her twin brothers’ birthday party. Standing next to her, smiling mischievously.

“Potter?” exclaims Demelza, befuddled. “Whoa, nice to see you off the pitch!”

“You too, Robins,” he says, looking away from Ginny for just a moment to shake Demelza’s hand.

“You were eavesdropping on us,” Ginny accuses him.

Potter chuckles, putting a hand through his hair. “Er, not quite, you were just speaking at an above average volume. And I’ve got good ears,” he claims. “Sorry, but it had to be done. Your reaction was worth it.”

Demelza laughs, and Ginny sighs, resigned. “Had to stoop so low?”

“If it’s any consolation, I hate this song too,” Harry admits to her, his arms now swinging by his side. “So I’m suffering as well.”

“It is somewhat of a consolation,” she tells him, and she hates how she has to fight a smile. “Listen, I’m sorry for how rude I was after that match. I’m not usually like that.”

“Really? You seem pretty fierce to me,” he remarks casually.

Ginny is trying to decipher whether that was an insult or a compliment when he adds, “It’s alright, though, really. I would’ve been ticked too. I hope Vane has brushed up her technique for the next match. Has she?”

“Looking for some inside info?” Demelza inquires with a smile. “Our lips are sealed.”

“Just trying to look out for your lot, is all,” he defends himself.

Ginny raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, you _should_ look out, considering we’re top of our division and _will_ be beating you next month.”

Harry grins, about to retaliate when Ron shouts from a few feet away over the chorus, “Harry! We’ve got our drinks!”

Harry sends a thumbs up over the crowd and then faces Ginny and Demelza again. “Well, it was nice to see you again. And off the pitch. Have a great rest of your night,” he tells them, and his smile is sweet and sincere and Ginny is wishing the flipping sensation in her stomach would quit it. “Er, maybe I’ll see you lot around?”

“Maybe,” Demelza answers, waving goodbye. Ginny gives a curt nod as Harry lifts his hand momentarily, and then walks over to her brother.

Ginny spends the rest of her time with Demelza and her best friend, Luna, explaining why Harry Potter is even at Fred & George’s 23rd birthday extravaganza in the first place. They both tease her endlessly, just the way her brothers did, about her age-old crush on the bloke. She desperately tries to change the topic at every chance, and eventually they let it go.

The party is essentially over, and there’s barely anyone left aside from family, and yet Harry Potter is still among the few remaining, yucking it up with her brother, Ron. And there’s a girl with them Ginny has never seen before, with brown skin and big brown hair.

For a split second she feels her stomach drop, watching Potter and Mystery Girl laugh together, but then she watches closer and realizes mystery girl is laughing at a joke Ron must have made, and talking to him with great interest. Mystery Girl keeps touching his arm, and it’s clear Potter is trying to let them be alone together. He uses Ginny as his getaway. “Hey, Ginny!” he calls out.

Ginny stops, unsure how to handle the upcoming situation. He whispers something like “I’ll see you later,” to Ron and Mystery Girl, and jogs over to Ginny.

“What are you running away from?” she questions, hands on hips.

Harry laughs loudly. “That’s my best mate, Hermione,” he explains. “I thought her and Ron would get on well. I introduced them one night last week and Ron invited her to join me tonight. Wanted to give them some space.”

Ginny nods, understanding now. “She seems into him. Which is odd. Girls are never into Ron. Well, except-”

“Lavender Brown,” he finishes for her.

Ginny’s eyes widen in surprise. “You know her?”

He shakes his head. “No. I mean, yeah. No, I mean, I know _of_ her. From Ron,” he struggles, cheeks turning slightly pink. “He told me about her the other week.”

“Just how often do you spend time with my brothers?” asks Ginny, perplexed at how he could know so much about her family in such a short period of time. And amused by the way his flushed cheeks prove he’s human, not just Super Seeker Potter.

“Er, pretty often, quite honestly,” Harry shrugs. “Ron more than Fred and George. Since I met them at our match they’ve been joining Ron and me at least once a week. I just met Charlie before the party. But Ron and I have been meeting up a few times a week.”

“So you’re dating.”

“I mean, we haven’t exactly defined the relationship yet,” Harry jokes.

“Cute.”

“He’s a good mate.”

“He’s tolerable,” Ginny says.

Harry smirks. “As long as he’s not droning on about the Cannons and asking me for details on every single player on the team as if we’re all best friends.” They both laugh. “I promised him I’d get him VIP seats in the top box for when Puddlemore plays them next, though.”

“He is going to absolutely piss his pants,” Ginny responds with a laugh. “So, do you think Ron fancies your friend?”

“Not sure,” he admits, looking at them. “Hermione is tough, though. She’s got some pretty strict criteria when it comes to men. When it comes to anything, really. Very Type-A.”

“Mm,” Ginny hums in response. “It’s getting late, you know. I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Harry shrugs, searching her face. She always fawned over his green eyes in private (okay, sometimes not in private, many times loudly to everyone she knows, but that was back _then_ ) but seeing them so up close like this, even behind his spectacles, was a bit too much for her to handle. He blinks and says, “Got nowhere to be, anyway. We’re off tomorrow so my schedule is a bit different.”

“Ah, so your off days are when you live your double life?”

He snorts, putting a hand in his hair. Again. “If you consider wearing sunglasses and a hat while going to Fortescue’s to get treacle flavored ice cream, then yes, you could say so.”

Ginny mentally smacks herself for _knowing_ how much he loves treacle tart from an interview last year, and forces her mouth not to betray her and inform him of her knowledge. “Sounds more exciting than being a seeker for Puddlemore.”

“A much simpler life than being a chaser for the Harpies, at least,” he retorts back.

She sends him a grimace. “Touche.”

He smiles, and then she finds herself smiling back. And then-

“Oh, so _now_ you’re nice to him?”

She turns to look at Ron, crossing her arms. “You know I have my days,” she responds.

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “Where’s Hermione?” he asks.

“She went to the loo,” answers Ron, and his ears turn just the slightest bit pink. “I think she’s ready to head off now, though.”

Harry nods, clapping him on the shoulder. “I guess I should head out as well,” he decides, and he and Ron do some weird handshake thing. “Still on for Tuesday night?”

“Definitely,” Ron says, grinning.

Harry turns to Ginny, sporting a closed-mouth smile. “Well,” he starts off. “Have a good night, Ginny.”

She salutes him. “You too.”

* * *

 

She has no idea why she’s doing it. It’s stupid. Unlike her.

Well, not _really_ unlike her. She’s generally pretty bold, even when it comes to boys. If this was in her strict fangirl days, she would _never_. But now...it’s different. There’s a shift. Just because she’s still a closeted fangirl doesn’t erase the fact that he’s friends with her brothers, and seems to want to be friends with her, as well.

But maybe friends is all it is.

Or maybe not.

Who’s to say.

He’s sitting there, _alone_ , happily eating his treacle ice cream while reading the sports section of _The Daily Prophet_.

She pushes the door open, and it hits the bell hanging from the ceiling. He looks up from his paper and spots her. Immediately, he smiles.

She takes a deep breath and walks over to him. “Stalking me?” he asks before shoving some ice cream into his mouth.

“Ever since you mentioned Fortescue’s last night I’ve been craving,” she mumbles, partially true.

Harry gestures to the counter. “By all means, go for it.”

“Will do,” she responds, trying to keep her cool as she walks towards the counter. She can feel him looking at her as she orders and pays Fortescue for her double scoop of chocolate.

She sits down across from him and he folds up the prophet with the hand not holding his ice cream cone.

“Nice sunglasses,” she tells him before taking a satisfying lick of her own cone, the coldness hitting her tongue and making the blood rushing to her head feel a bit less intense.

“Thanks,” Harry says, having some of his ice cream as well. “I’m basically blind without my regular glasses, though.”

“Can’t you just magic your glasses to get darker in the sun or something?” she suggests.

Harry snorts, trying not to laugh. “Muggles have technology for that, actually. But people who wear those are nerds.”

“So you’ll fit right in,” she smiles.

Harry smiles back. Ginny feels her stomach flip. “Should’ve seen that one coming from a mile away.”

“Not crazy about your hat, though,” she comments.

Harry fakes offense, putting his free hand against his chest. “This is a family _heirloom_ , mind you.”

“Sorry?”

Harry has another go at his treacle ice cream, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be. It’s not _actually_ a family heirloom. It’s just my godfather, Sirius...it was his. He gave it to me, and told me that if I don’t pass it down throughout the rest of the Potter line that I eventually create, no one will remember him, since he doesn’t have kids, and it will all be my fault,” he explains to her.

“He really chose that hideous hat for his legacy? Really?” Ginny observes questioningly.

Harry laughs lightly, a chill shooting up her spine. “He says it’s _unique_ , like him.”

“Sounds like a real character.”

“Oh, he is,” Harry assures her. “Either way, I guess you can consider it an _eventual_ family heirloom.”

Ginny has some more of her ice cream, “Your child will toss that in the bin first chance he gets, I guarantee it.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily blame him,” Harry admits. “But if Sirius is still alive? There’s no way he’ll let the kid live if he gets rid of it.” He pauses, then asks, “Is Gwenog crazy about diets for you lot, too?” he asks.

The question sends a jolt through Ginny’s veins. In all her life, she always thought if she was going to sit down and have a _real_ conversation with Harry Potter for the first time, it would be about his parents’ heroism, or her uncontainable obsession with him. Maybe she’d ask for a photo or an autograph, or maybe she’d just die on the spot. But there they were, casually chatting about Quidditch regiments.

“Yeah, but is life worth living without ice cream?” she asks before biting into her cone. “I don’t think it is.”

“Cheers,” Harry responds, lifting his cone up just a bit before devouring his last bite. “Oliver, you know, my captain, is specifically hard on me because as a seeker I need to, as he put it, maintain my scrawny stature.”

“Not _all_ seekers are scrawny,” Ginny says, holding back a laugh at the face he makes when she doesn’t even argue against his stated scrawniness. “Krum, for example, is the size of about ten of me. And he’s one of the best seekers in the world.”

Harry laughs, and the sound sends shivers up Ginny’s spine. “You know, he dated my friend Hermione for a bit.”

“What?!?” Ginny shouts, incredulously. “The Hermione you’re trying to set up with my brother?”

“The one and only.”

“How? When?” Ginny questions, but then realizes her eagerness may be coming off as if she is interested in Krum, when in reality she just can’t believe Krum dated someone her brother might soon date. So she tries to play it a bit more cool. “I mean, it’s none of my business, sorry-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Harry assures her. “The short of it is that they went on a few dates and that was it. Krum was actually pretty hung up on her, but school was really more of a priority for her than dating, so it never turned serious or anything like that. We were kids, anyway. Hermione was only 15. It was after the-”

“-Quidditch World Cup against Ireland,” Ginny finishes for him. “My brothers bet a shit ton of galleons that Ireland would win but Krum would catch the snitch. That’s how they got the initial fund for their joke shop.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry smiles appreciatively. He takes off his sunglasses, lightly flopping them on the table, and Ginny wants to look away, she really does, but the green in his eyes is too much for her to handle. He takes his specs out of the front pocket of his shirt and slips them lazily onto his nose as he says, “Fred and George always say they don’t know how you ended up pro.”

Ginny growls, taking her final bite of her chocolate cone as Harry slides down in his chair a bit and chuckles. “They’re still in denial that in a family of seven, the only girl ended up becoming a professional Quidditch player. I mean, my brother Charlie could have if he really wanted to, but he’s got this intense obsession with dragons and he chose working with them in Romania instead.” Ginny runs a hand through her hair, then props one of her elbows up on the table, placing her chin in her hand. “They never even let me play with them, growing up. I’d steal their brooms from our shed at night, or when they were away at school.”

“Serves them right,” Harry responds brightly, looking at her with what could only be described as admiration. Ginny suddenly feels like she is oversharing, or maybe it was just because of the intensity in Harry’s emerald eyes. She forces herself to look away, down at the floor. He speaks anyway. “Well, that’s much more impressive than me. I’ve basically been playing since I came out of the womb. My mum always encouraged me to do whatever I wanted, but it was always my dad and godfather’s dream for me to play Quidditch. Pretty sure they cried the day I signed my contract.”

Ginny looks back up at him, eyebrows raised. “Was it always _your_ dream?”

Harry laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yes,” he confirms. “I’m lucky. Usually it doesn’t quite work like that, does it?” he muses, putting a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it. “I never had to yell at my dad dramatically that I was giving up his dream or something like that like in the films.”

“You watch films?”

“Sometimes,” Harry tells her. “More often when I was a kid. My mum is muggle-born, so she likes having a telly.”

“Has Ron told you about our dad’s obsession with everything muggle?”

“He has.”

“He’d probably love to see a film.”

“We should go sometime with him to a movie theater,” Harry says. Then, his eyes widen and he drops his hand from his neck. “Er, I mean, not just you me and your dad. Your whole family. I don’t even need to be there. Unless you want me to. We could go even without your dad. Er, I mean…”

Ginny starts to snicker and Harry buries his face in his hands. “It’s alright, Potter,” she tells him, and he peeks at her through his fingers. “Breathe.”

She smiles at him, and he uncovers his face, which is glowing a bit, and smiles back. Ginny feels like she might fall off her chair. She can’t believe she’s making Harry Potter, her crush for years, nervous like this. And...did he just ask her out?

“Er,” he starts again, but Ginny cuts in.

“We can all go together one day,” she tells him. “Dad would love that. So would the boys. We never do ordinary muggle things, really.” She leans in closer, because she wants to convey that although that may have sounded like a rejection, it isn’t. “Anyway, it’s nice to hear that it was your dream, too. Quidditch, I mean.”

He nods, dazed. “What about your parents? How’d they react when they found out you wanted to go pro?”

Ginny snorts, tapping her fingers on the table. “Dad thought it was cool. Mum at first was worried...you know, pulling out _Prophet_ clippings of different Quidditch injuries and rubbish like that...she eventually came around, though. And she was practically sobbing with joy when I was on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ last summer. Still always has a significant sigh of relief after my matches when I come out unscathed.”

Harry grins. “And what about the times you don’t? We’ve all been there.”

Ginny shrugs, smirking back. “Panic-stricken is a light way to describe it.”

“Understood.” He finally takes his silly hat off, ruffling his hair. He puts the hat on his lap. “My mum _should_ probably be more worried when that happens to me, but she was exposed to it so much every time it happened to my dad at school while they were dating that by the time I started flying she was used to it. She still closes her eyes when I do a Wronski Feint, though. Freaks her out.”

“They can get nasty if you’re not a superb flier,” she says casually. “I think you tend to overuse it though, quite honestly.”

Harry laughs, loud and freely, and Ginny tries to ignore the way it fills her up. “All the best players do.”

“You saying you’re the best player?” Ginny challenges.

Harry bites his lip, surveying her. Just then, two teenage boys, about 15 years old, walk into the shop, immediately spot Harry and stop dead, and start frantically whispering. Ginny and Harry both look at them, and the smaller of the two pushes the taller one right towards Harry. “Harry Potter, sir, wow, this is- I am- er, would you mind signing something for me and my mate?”

“You’re the best player in the league!” shouts the smaller one, stepping closer now. Harry flashes a winning smile towards Ginny as she rolls her eyes. “Hear that?” he whispers to her, before turning back to them. “Sure, I will. Er, I don’t have a quill though. Or parchment, for that matter.”

“I do!” The smaller boy rummages through his rucksack, pulling out two pieces of ripped, spare parchment and a rather large quill. “Thanks so much, Mr. Potter!”

Harry grins, although Ginny can’t help but notice that he’s gotten a bit red. Even though he was just gloating to her, she’s always known Harry is not keen on being in the spotlight, almost always hiding from reporters and paparazzi. This was quite frustrating to her as a fan, but she understood better once she joined the league herself. And so it made sense that he brought the sunglasses and the hat. The bright glow off his cheeks suggests that he may have regretted taking them off just moments before.

Harry signs both pieces of parchment, handing them back to the boys. The smaller one’s mouth is stuck in an O shape from amazement. The taller one looks at Ginny finally and has a moment of recognition. “Wait a mo’, you’re Ginny Weasley, right?”

“Yes,” she answers.

“Wow, what are the odds that you’d be here too! My sister is a _huge_ fan. She’s got your poster on her wall and everything. We went to the last match- you were brilliant!”

Ginny, feeling her own cheeks burn, smiles at the boy kindly. “Well, that’s very sweet of you to say. Thank you for coming.”

“Could you sign as well? Er, for my sister, too, please.”

Harry hands the quill over to Ginny, grinning. The smaller boy is still ogling at Harry, holding his autograph delicately in his hand. Ginny signs her name twice under Harry’s, giving the parchment back to the boy when she’s finished.

“Thanks so much,” the boy says. “I’m Jordan, by the way,” he mutters.

“Nice to meet you, Jordan,” Ginny tells him.

“Nice to meet you too,” he says to her, picking up the quill, then turns to Harry. “And you too, Mr. Potter, wow, really an honor.” Harry nods, smiling softly. He looks at his friend, takes the parchment out of his hand and stuffs them all in his friend’s rucksack along with the quill, much to his friend’s disappointment. “C’mon, let’s leave them alone.”

“But-” starts the smaller one, but the boy grabs him by the elbow and drags him toward the front counter.

While just a moment ago Harry was acting like an overly confident git, it was evident to Ginny it was all an act by how thoroughly discombobulated he seems.

“Put your hat and your sunglasses back on,” she orders, standing up from her seat. “I think we should take a walk.”

Harry nods, exhaling in relief. He does as he’s told and gets up as well, following Ginny to the door. As they walk out he hears the smaller boy say to Jordan, “I can’t _believe_ you scared him away!”

Ginny laughs as the door closes shut, and she and Harry walk slowly down the cobble-lined sidewalk. “You don’t like that much, do you?” she asks as Harry kicks a pebble. “The attention, I mean.”

Harry looks at her and shrugs. “Not really, no. I mean, sometimes it feels good,” Harry admits. “And I don’t mind signing autographs for kids. It’s nice. I’ve just been exposed to fame my whole life with...er, well, you know. Voldemort. My parents defeating him. The whole bit.”

“Right.”

“You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” Harry contemplates. “But...I don’t know, it just makes me uncomfortable and nervous.”

Ginny nods, unsure how to respond. She suddenly feels guilty for how desperate she always was for some sort of picture or quote from him in the paper.

Harry laughs to himself, shaking his head, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “Well, anyway...at least those kids were able to confirm that I _am_ the best player in the league.”

“Ha,” Ginny says in a dead voice, making Harry laugh. “Listen, mate. I played seeker back at school for a bit. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I never said you didn’t,” he tells her, and there’s a kindness in his voice that overrides the playfulness. “But you know I wasn’t actually talking about me. I was referring to Krum. I studied the way he did it for so long…”

“Well, Krum does it only when necessary, like you’re supposed to,” Ginny reminds him.

Harry scoffs. “C’mon, Weasley,” he says, rolling his eyes. “The guy is a show-off.”

“Aren’t we all?” she retorts.

He sighs deeply, causing Ginny to laugh, which in turn eventually causes Harry to laugh. “God, are the whole lot of you so stubborn?”

“You mean us Weasleys? Yes.”

He shakes his head and stops walking, but still smiles. “Er, listen. Krum is actually playing against the Wasps on Monday at 6. We can see for ourselves just how often he uses it. I mean, if you want. For research.”

Ginny looks at him with a sober face, trying not to give her excitement away. “Right. For research,” she echoes.

They both stand there, looking at one another for a few quiet moments. Ginny mentally hits herself. How did she end up here? And was she overanalyzing the way Harry was looking at her?

She clears her throat, breaking the tension. “Well, I better apparate back home.”

“Right,” he stammers out.

“Monday at 6?”

“Monday at 6,” he confirms.

She salutes him, trying to smile. “See you, Potter.”

Harry grins, saluting her back. “Bye, Ginny.”

* * *

 

He’s waiting there for her, and he’s not wearing his silly disguise this time. Rather, he’s wearing sleek dress robes, looking nervous as a silky cloak hangs on his arm over his elbow. But he smiles as she approaches him, bouncing on his toes. He clears his throat. “Wow- you look...well, you look brilliant,” he tells her.

She smiles gently, moving a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she responds. She nods her head at the cloak. “What you got there?”

“Sh,” he warns her, though there’s playfulness in his eyes. “It’s a secret.”

Ginny’s mouth forms a thin line, and Harry laughs. “C’mon. Let’s show them our tickets, and then I’ll let you in on the cloak.” He reaches into a pocket and pulls out two tickets, handing one to Ginny.

“You didn’t pay for these, did you?” Ginny questions.

Harry shakes his head. “No, I just told our team owner and he got them for me.”

Ginny blinked.

“You _do_ know that all members of the league get free tickets to other matches, right?”

“Er, sure,” she lies.

Harry snorts. “Merlin, you didn’t!”

“I mean, I knew I could get them to _my_ matches for free, but…”

“Well, now you know what to get all your brothers for birthday gifts from now on without ever having to spend a sickle,” Harry says brightly.

They walk towards the ticket taker, receive their stubs back, pocket them, and then start walking towards the stairs to the top box.

“Wait,” calls Harry. He checks his surroundings, then beckons Ginny to follow him. She hesitantly does, and they end up behind a big oak tree.

“If this is where you plan to murder me so that Puddlemore can get a lead on the Harpies in the league, I don’t think this is the best spot for you to get away with it, honestly.”

Harry grins, gently tugging her arm so that she is up against his person. “I believe you mean _keep_ our lead, but I don’t have to murder you to do that. And whether I do murder you or not- which I don’t plan to, for the record- no one will see us.”

“You don’t plan to _yet.”_

He takes the silky cloak off his arm, and then wraps it around the both of them. Ginny looks at him curiously, mutters, “What the… Potter, what are you doing?” She lifts the cloak up and walks out from under it.

Then she gasps.

“Harry? Where’d you go?”

His hand appears in the air. Ginny yelps. Harry snorts in response, grabbing her shoulder. “Get back under, eh?”

Ginny obliges, flabbergasted as the cloak encloses them both once more. “You have an invisibility cloak?”

She notices his breath hitches just a bit as she stands close against him, ensuring the cloak is covering them both. An odd noise of affirmation escapes his throat and he nods. “Was my dad’s. Been in our family for ages.”

They begin to walk slowly to their seats, trying to ensure it doesn’t slip. Ginny feels her stomach drop as their arms continue to bump against one another. “Why are we under it, exactly?”

Harry snickers. “To avoid a scene like we had at Fortescue’s.”

“Don’t want to be seen with me?” she jokes.

Harry stumbles on his words. “No! No, of course I don’t mind being seen with- I just thought, I mean, it wasn’t bad what happened, obviously! I just thought it’d be nice to enjoy Quidditch without people taking photos of us for once. Just be spectators with no disruptions. And, you know…really, er, absorb the research.”

She grins. “Right. The research.”

They climb the rest of the stairs in silence, and once they reach their seats they carefully sit next to one another, adjusting the cloak so that their feet remain covered. Due to the cloak’s size, they are forced to sit awfully close to one another, their arms still practically against each other’s.

The match begins, and Ginny and Harry are watching it intently. But Ginny feels her thoughts drifting towards the warmth emitting from his arm. The game is gripping, and every now and then one of them will whisper commentary to the other. At one point, Harry leans over to Ginny and says, “You’re better than all those Wasp chasers combined.”

Ginny feels herself blush and replies, “I thought maybe I was just being conceited, so thank you for that validation.” Harry muffles a laugh and purposely bumps his arm against hers. Some time passes and she can feel the edge of Harry’s hand against her. She steals a glance, and sees his hand slowly inching closer towards hers, Harry staring hard at his own hand as if trying to will it to move on its own accord. Ginny inhales and starts to adjust her hand to be up against his, and then his pinky is linked with hers, and then they both shift their hands and clasp them together, intertwining fingers. Harry’s hand squeezes hers tightly, and she turns her head to face him. He looks up at her, and her face is blazing, and their eyes are locked as their heads drift closer and closer together, and their noses are touching-

“KRUM HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!”

The commentator’s shout and the audience’s collective gasp jolt them apart, and they turn their heads back to the field, watching Krum as he dives right past them, reaches out his right hand and grasps the snitch effortlessly as he lands.

The stadium erupts, and Ginny feels as if her lungs are made of stone. She looks back at Harry, whose cheeks are flushed and has just let out a deep exhale. He looks back at her and smiles warily. “What do we do now?” she asks breathlessly.

Harry looks at her for a moment, pondering, then grasps her hand again. “I got an idea. Hold tight,” he says, and then apparates, Ginny in hand.

They arrive at a different Quidditch stadium, and Harry reluctantly lets go of Ginny’s hand and takes off the cloak, stowing it in his back pocket. “Puddlemore stomping grounds,” he tells her, though she already knows. She feels her entire body heating up, as she’s imagined what it’d be like to be alone here with Harry Potter for so long as an avid fan, and now it seemed like she was hallucinating, or living in a lucid dream. She notices Harry flick his wand and then hears zooming, and then suddenly a Comet broom is rushing towards her, and she grasps it quickly from the air before it can pummel her. Harry catches his too, looking at her and smiling. “Nice reflexes.”

“Could’ve given me a _warning_ ,” she says, smiling anyway.

He bumps his shoulder against hers. “C’mon.” He mounts his broom and lifts off lightly. Ginny follows and they begin flying. They’re circling the stadium, lightly discussing the match, and then Ginny gets a wave of brilliance. She grins and says, “Race you!”

“What?”

But Ginny is already pelting towards the ground at top speed. Harry follows her, inching close behind, and then suddenly Ginny rises sharply upward, and Harry crashes onto the field.

Ginny starts to cackle with laughter at the success of her Wronski Feint, as Harry turns over and looks up at her with narrowed eyes. “I beat you at your own _game_ , Potter!”

Harry stifles a laugh, stands up, wipes some dirt off of his robes, and then flies towards Ginny with such force that she barely has a moment to register what he’s trying to do before she dodges him. It somehow turns into a game of tag, which somehow turns into the two of them tackling each other on their brooms, which turns to them falling onto the pitch, wrestling. Ginny pins Harry victoriously. “I have six brothers. You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

They’re both laughing, and then his eyes catch hers in a brilliant gaze, and suddenly neither of them are laughing anymore. Harry adjusts himself so he’s sitting up, despite Ginny still straddling him. They look at each other, and this time, unable to stop themselves, they both move forward swiftly, their lips meeting in the middle.

Ginny does not know, nor does she expect Harry to know, how long they’ve been going at it for, although she does know she does not want to stop. Harry seems to be of the same frame of mind, for as jagged as their breathing is when they pull apart, Harry continues to press kiss after kiss to her mouth, sometimes her jaw or her neck, which _should_ give Ginny a moment to restabilize her respiratory system but just leaves her breathless all the same.

It’s only when a voice emits from Harry’s robe pocket that startles them both, tearing them apart. Harry exhales, putting his head on her shoulder as she faintly hears, _“Harry Potter! Harry? Your godfather requests your presence at once.”_

Harry groans, lifting his head back up and smiling at Ginny apologetically. “One mo’,” he mumbles, fumbling into his pocket and taking out a small, square mirror. He lifts the mirror to his face. “A bit tied up right now, mate,” Harry sighs.

“‘What, in the loo?” says the voice, presumably Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black. “Why are you in the loo in the dark?”

“I’m not in the loo,” Harry responds, rolling his eyes. “I’m outside. What do you want?”

“So brash,” Sirius criticizes. “I can _see_ when I’m not wanted! I just hope it’s because you’re with that bird you’ve been blabbing on about-”

Harry’s face turns scarlet in the time it takes Ginny to blink and bite back a laugh. “ _Goodbye_ , Sirius.”

“Oh, you are, aren’t you! Right now? Why are you-”

“Good _bye_!” Harry shouts, shoving the mirror back into his pocket.

“Use protection!” they hear Sirius shout in return, his voice filled with something that could only be identified as pride, and then the mirror is finally silent.

Harry, seemingly mortified, looks down at their laps. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Ginny lifts his face by the chin so that she can see the green of his eyes again. “Been blabbing on about me, have you?”

Harry gulps. “Yes.”

She smiles triumphantly. “Well, they’ll have to get used to it,” and leans back in towards him, crushing her lips against his.


	3. Summer

“Harry, m’boy!” 

Harry cringes, and Ginny raises a questioning eyebrow at him. Then he turns and smiles. “Hello, Professor Slughorn.”

“Oh, you don’t need to call me ‘Professor’ anymore, Harry! Horace is fine, just fine.”

“Horace, then. Er, Horace, this is-”

But Slughorn recognizes her as soon as he lays his eyes on her face. “Oho! Ginny Weasley, isn’t it? What an honor, what an honor! Chaser for the Harpies, am I correct?”

“You are,” she smiles.

“I know Gwenog quite well! She’s a very gifted witch.” Slughorn smooths his long mustache and beams at Harry. “Dating your rivals now, are you, Harry? I daresay, the Harpies  _ did  _ seem to give Puddlemore a run for their money this season!”

Ginny smirks triumphantly at her boyfriend, who’s shaking his head. “We had an even record,” Harry remarks.

“Indeed,” Slughorn agrees. “Both beaten out by the Tutshill Tornados, though, eh? Now, listen, Harry. I am in contact with the captain of the Tornados, and I have it in good confidence- although, of course, the press has  _ no _ idea, and nothing is final yet- that it looks like they will be short of a Seeker by next season’s time if they do not win the national tournament next week! Now, of course, if you were interested, I’d be more than happy to set up a meeting. Top of the league, they are, and I’m sure they’d be more than pleased to consider you for the position!”

Harry’s face is rather flushed as he says, “Thank you Prof- I mean, Horace. But I’m alright where I am now, thanks.”

“Well, if you change your mind, don’t hesitate to send me an owl! Well, I better be heading off, I’m getting drinks with Filius at the Leaky Cauldron...Please tell your mother I said hello! And your father, of course, too. It was lovely meeting you, Ms. Weasley!”

“Pleasure,” she replies kindly, although smiling curiously.

“Bye, Horace.” Harry waves, as Professor Slughorn slowly leaves the shop.

Ginny looks up curiously at Harry, but just in that moment George comes in between them. “Alright, Harry, it’s time to show you our new stocks! Gin, why don’t we show him the new Pygmy Puffs first?”

“The  _ what? _ ” Harry questions.

Fred chimes in, as George wraps both his arms around the couple. “Harry’s never heard of Arnold?”

“Who’s Arnold?” he asks a bit defensively.

Ginny cackles, then suddenly makes a somber face and closes her eyes. “RIP Arnold, gone too soon.”

“Er,” emits Harry helplessly.

Fred pats him on the back. “We’ve got these cute little fuzzy creatures we’ve bred called Pygmy Puffs. We were out of them when we gave you the tour back in February. Ginny got one back in school, named it Arnold. He passed last year.”

“Gone too soon, indeed,” George echoes. “Too soon to get a new one?”

Ginny nods. “I’m still in mourning.”

“Can’t hurt to look though, can it?” suggests Fred, leading the way. “C’mon, just got a new batch of them.”

* * *

“You two sicken me,” an embarrassed Ron scowls as he quickly turns away from Harry and Ginny under the blankets of her childhood bed, with only their undergarments on. “The door has a lock for a  _ reason _ .”

“You didn’t even knock, you prat!” Ginny points out, unabashed. “We’re in here with the door closed, what must you think is going on? Discussing Quidditch tactics?”

“Give him some credit, Ginny,” Harry injects. “We do discuss Quidditch tactics quite often.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she sighs. Then she smirks at Harry. “They  _ do  _ make it into the bedroom enough--”

“Oi! I’m still standing here!” Ron proclaims, covering his ears. 

“Please leave, then,” Ginny requests politely, though she is doing her best to hold back her anger. “Now, I suggest, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Sorry, mate,” offers Harry quietly, and Ginny can tell he feels a bit uncomfortable. 

“Well, at least now I know Ginny was lying about you having a Hungarian Horntail tattooed on your chest.” Ron shakes his head and faces the door. “Still can’t believe my little sister is shagging Harry Potter-”

Ginny groans loudly, grabbing her wand from her bedside table and flicking it in the direction of her brother. “Ouch!” Ron exclaims. “Stinging hex? Really?”

“And close the door on your way out!” Ginny answers, flicking her wand once more. The door snaps shut on top of Ron, and then an extra  _ click  _ indicates the lock being set into place. She sighs, putting her wand back and then returning her gaze to Harry. “Sorry about him. Nosy git.”

Harry laughs, pulling her face back to his. “S’alright,” he murmurs, leaning in and kissing her gently. Ginny indulges for a few moments before she pulls away to ask a question that had been on her mind most of the day.

“Who was that man we met at Fred and George’s?”

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh, one that Ginny has come to recognize as annoyance at having to do anything other than snog her. “Slughorn? He was a teacher of mine. Taught my parents, too. My mum was his favorite student, so he took a liking to me at school.”

“Seemed like an interesting bloke.”

Harry grunts in agreement, trailing his fingers along Ginny’s skin. 

“Well connected, too.”

Harry chuckles, kissing her shoulder. “Expert at social networking. Loves to feel like people in power rely on him for advice.”

“You expect what he said about The Tornados is true?”

He shrugs, putting a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Probably.” Ginny makes a face at him. He laughs, imitating her. “What? What’s that face for?”

“And?” she asks curiously. “Would you be interested?”

“You heard what I told Slughorn. I’m happy at Puddlemore. Besides, my contract isn’t up until next year anyway.”

“Contracts can be negotiated,” she reminds him.

Harry raises an eyebrow, putting a hand on her thigh. “You think I should?”

She shrugs, putting her hand on top of his. “I didn’t say that. Just was an interesting prospect...the Tornados have an incredible offensive team. It could be really good for your career.”

Harry doesn’t respond, and instead stares out her window with a pensive look on his face. Ginny touches his face so that he’ll look back at her. “No pressure. Just thought it would be interesting to think about. No worries.”

He nods, and then offers a small smirk. “You should know my ex was a huge Tornados fan. So, that’s just another factor to consider.”

“Probably a bandwagoner,” she responds casually.

Harry snorts. “Ron said the same thing when I mentioned it to him a few months back, but she was actually a long time fan. People used to say that to her and-”

“Harry,” she exhales, incredulously. “You’ve got your half-naked girlfriend right before you, why don’t you quit talking about your ex, eh?”

He squints his eyes at her. “ _ You _ were the one who brought up-”

But Ginny drags his face down towards hers, kissing him fiercely. He deepens the kiss, moving his hand steadily up her thigh. He then parts his lips from hers slightly to whisper, “You locked that door, right?”

Ginny laughs against his mouth.

Awhile after they finish their resumed activities, they lie in bed, legs intertwined, discussing tomorrow night’s perspective dinner at the Potters, which is a big deal. Sometime in the middle of Harry explaining how Sirius ended up living with his dad when they were teenagers, there’s a loud knock on the door.

“What?” Ginny asks briskly. 

“Are you decent yet?” inquires Ron on the other side of the door.

“No, so what do you want?” she shoots back.

“I need Harry’s help,” they hear him say, sounding a bit desperate. "When you're decent, that is."

Harry sits up. “What is it, mate?”

“Hermione,” he answers somberly.

Ginny bites back a laugh and Harry gives a pitiful sigh. “Give me a mo’ to get dressed, alright? I’ll help you out in a sec.”

Ron emits some sort of grunt in agreement, and they hear his footsteps echo away.

Harry kisses Ginny and then stands up to search around for his discarded boxers. Ginny stretches out on the mattress, yawning. “Why’s he need help?” she asks, taking a pillow in as her new cuddle hostage since Harry has been set free. “I know he’s inept with girls, but I thought things were going well with Hermione.”

Harry spots his boxers and slips them on. Then he begins searching for his trousers. “Things aren’t really  _ going _ at all.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry suddenly laughs, picking up his trousers. “How did these end up under the bed?” he muses, then sits down on the edge of the mattress to put them on. “Anyway, I just mean that nothing has  _ happened _ between them yet.”

“Nothing?” Ginny repeats. “But it’s been months! Even for Ron, that’s slow.”

“He just doesn’t know how to approach it. Hermione is kind of intimidating,” he tells her. “You know that. But whenever it seems like he might summon the courage, they row. It’s funny, because it’s half flirting, half real bickering. I think I may have made a mistake trying to pair the two of them together.”

“Really?”

Harry zips up his jeans and turns to her. “Nah, not  _ really _ . I actually think he’s good for Hermione...helps lighten her up. And like I said, their bickering is their form of flirting but...sometimes it’s a real headache.”

“So they’re just mates?” she asks, as Harry moves the pillow out of her arms and momentarily snuggles back into his girlfriend. 

“For now. I mean, both of them want more, but they’re both too thick to just get to it already.”

Ginny laughs, kissing Harry’s head. “I think it’s good for Ron, to be mates with a girl before eating her face. Oughta teach him patience.”

Harry buries his face into the crook of Ginny’s neck, sending a pleasant, warm feeling throughout her chest. His breath hot against her skin, he murmurs, “A mere impossible feat, but I think Hermione could pull it off.”

“Maybe we should go on a double date with them, without  _ telling  _ them it’s a double date, but be all coupley around them and leave them alone in close proximity. That kind of stuff.”

“Genius scheme. I like it. We’ll have to flesh out the details later. Really get all the moving parts into the proper places.”

They lie intertwined in comfortable silence for a minute before Ginny asks, “So what exactly does he need your help with now?”

“No idea. Expect I’ll go find out, eh?” He kisses her gently and then smiles. “Now, may I have my shirt back, please?”

Ginny frowns. “No, you may not.”

Harry fakes a sigh, and then says, “Alright, guess I’ll just have to take it off of you myself-”

“No,” Ginny protests, pushing his hands away. “I’m wearing it. Tough.”

Harry shakes his head, his green eyes surveying her. “So you would like me to just go into your family’s kitchen shirtless?”

“I mean, yes, I would like that very much-”

“Gin.”

“Harry.”

This time Harry really does sigh, rolling off her and sitting up again, pulling his socks onto his feet. “Alright, fine. Do you have that t-shirt from the last time I was here? Remember, we were playing Quidditch in the backyard with your brothers and it got full of mud? Your mum insisted on washing it for me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ginny recalls, reclaiming the pillow. “It’s hanging in my closet, I think.”

Harry steps into his trainers and walks over to her closet. Ginny is resting her eyes, still allowing her utter contentment to settle in as Harry rummages through her closet. “Gin, I don’t see it anywhere- Oh, nevermind, it’s on the floor. Must’ve fallen off the hanger-” Unexpectedly, Harry interrupts himself to say “What is this?” Ginny, not bothering to open her eyes, pays no real attention to this. Then, she hears some rustling, and suddenly, Harry erupts into a fit of laughter. Ginny turns over and opens her eyes, wondering what in her closet could possibly-

“No,” she says, sudden realization splashing over her like ice cold water. “No,” she repeats. Harry still guffawing, she clambers out of her bed, almost tripping, running towards him, and with horror her worst fear is confirmed: Harry is holding open a poster of his younger self in Puddlemore Quidditch robes, smiling warily and fidgeting awkwardly. Ginny forces her limbs to move, to try and grasp the poster from Harry, but he holds it away from her, his laughter still echoing around her room. “I cannot  _ believe _ this.”

Ginny can’t really sort out all of her emotions at once, but she feels her all the blood rushing to her face. “I’m going to obliviate you right now if you don’t put that down and never mention it again for as long as you live-”

“You would deprive me of such flattery? Really, Ginny?” He takes one more look at the poster, lets out a bark of a laugh, and then actually does as she says and drops it. Then, quite suddenly, he is kissing her so passionately that all her thoughts begin to blur, and for a moment Ginny forgets why they’re in her closet. And then she remembers, and pulls away. 

Harry tries pulling her back, but she refuses. “This is the most embarrassed I’ve ever been in my poor, pathetic life.”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about?” he asks innocently.

“You’re joking, aren’t you? I have a bloody poster of you hidden in my closet from when I was sixteen! You must think I’m some sort of stalker!”

“Well, I already knew that,” he teases, encircling his arms around her waist. “Ron, Fred and George told me countless times that you were a massive fan. But I, er, thought they were exaggerating, to be honest.”

“I’m going to kill them,” she states, trying to escape, but Harry just pulls her in closer. “ _ Kill  _ them. Azkaban will be worth it.”

“Ginny,” he says, laughter still in his voice. “It’s okay. It’s adorable that you have this...How could I hold it against you? Did you put some spell on poster-me to make real-me fall in love with you?”

“Shut up, of course I didn’t…” she trails off, processing. She feels her throat tighten, but she forces out words anyway. “What did you just say? Did you just say you’re in love with me?”

His cheeks are pink but he beams at her, putting his forehead against hers. “Yes, I suppose I did,” he whispers, before leaning in and kissing her briefly. “But maybe I wasn’t direct enough? I’m in love with you. So stop being so embarrassed, would you? And if it makes you feel better, the only copy of Witch Weekly I’ve ever purchased is the one with you on the cover from August of last year.”

Ginny just stares at him, not really believing what’s happening.

“Gin?”

“Harry Potter just said he’s in love with me.”

“Er, yes, I know, I am him,” he laughs. “Your fan is showing. And for someone who’s such a fan, why were you so short with me those first few times we met? I had such a crush on you and you-”

But Ginny swallows his words in her mouth, kissing him so hard they stumble. Harry laughs against her mouth, re-adjusting his grip on her to steady them. She pulls away, just for the slightest moment, whispers, “I’m in love with you too, if it wasn’t clear,” and then continues to kiss him, melting his laughs into moans. 

Ginny’s back is against the closet door frame and Harry’s mouth is against her neck when they hear Ron’s tentative knock. Ginny scowls as Harry pulls away and laughs, raising his voice. “Sorry, sorry, mate!” he shouts apologetically. “Really, I’ll be out in a mo’. Promise.”

“Sure,” they hear Ron snort and walk away again.

“Who are you dating again? Him or me?” Ginny asks, slightly disgruntled but still playful. 

Harry smirks, running a hand down her arm. “Why not both?”

She rolls her eyes and pushes him off of her. “Go, before I don’t let you.”

He snickers, pulling her into a hug. “Why don’t you put some pants on and come down with me?” he suggests, rubbing her back. “Need some intel to really make the perfect plan to successfully trap him and Hermione into just getting on with it already.”

“Fine,” she sighs begrudgingly against his chest. He kisses her cheek and releases her, and Ginny is smiling to herself as she walks over to the bed and retrieves her knickers and jeans, putting them back on. As she’s tucking in Harry’s blue t-shirt she stole into her high-waisted jeans, Harry appears in front of her, wearing his red t-shirt from her closet floor. She can’t help but shamelessly admire his physique, his forearms bronze from the summer sun, and the way his t-shirt clings tightly to his chest. And then she gets a good look at his face. He’s got a lopsided smile on, his glasses are a bit crooked, and his emerald eyes are as green as ever. Ginny smiles, adjusting his specs for him. “I like this shirt on you. Brings out your eyes.”

“Thanks,” he says softly, ruffling his hair. 

Ginny raises an eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanor. “You alright?”

He nods, laughing lightly. “I’m brilliant. Just...feels good to get that off my chest.” When Ginny’s eyebrow remains raised, Harry laughs again, grabbing her hands. “Feels good to finally tell you that I love you.”

“Oh.” She grasps his hands tightly back. She smiles slyly. “Feels good to finally hear it.”

Harry snorts, and Ginny laughs and adds, “I love you, too. Merlin, you’re right, that feels bloody brilliant to finally say.”

“How long have you been holding it in?”

“How long have  _ you _ been holding it in?” she fires back.

He kisses her softly. “That’s a confession for another time, love. C’mon, I’m scared if we don’t go down there soon Ron will start having a mental breakdown.”

Ginny concedes, keeping hold of one of Harry’s hands as he reaches for their wands from her bedside table, pocketing his own and holding out Ginny’s wand for her. She takes it and puts it in her own pocket as they leave her room and walk down the staircase to the Burrow’s kitchen.

Ron is sitting there at the table, crumpling up a piece of parchment and throwing it haphazardly aside, grabbing a new piece and placing it beside a letter that must be from Hermione. He turns his head as they approach. “Finally,” he whines.

“Sorry, but I have a good excuse for being late,” Harry assures him.

“I don’t want to hear about it-”

“Trust me,” Harry says, a mischievous smirk on his face, letting go of Ginny’s hand and taking out his wand. “You do.” Ginny peers at Harry curiously as he flicks his wand towards the hallway they just came through. Suddenly, they hear a light zooming noise approaching and growing louder. Harry catches it in his hand just as Ginny realizes what he’s just summoned.

“HARRY-” 

“Catch!” Harry warns Ron, as he throws the half-rolled poster towards his friend. Harry locks Ginny in his hold for long enough for Ron to register what he’s seeing, as Ginny lets out a stream of swears at Harry, attempting to reach for her own wand. Ron begins to laugh so hard he falls off his chair, which causes Harry to laugh so hard as well that his grip on Ginny loosens and she makes her escape, whipping her wand out from her pocket and, too fast for them, performs a bat-bogey hex powerful enough to hit the both of them, which immediately kills their laughter. “Tell Fred and George about this and you’ll get much worse than my Bat-Bogey fury.”

* * *

“On a scale of one to ten, how well do you think this is going right now?”

“One being the worst, ten being the best?”

“Yeah.”

Ginny contemplates, biting her lip. “A three? Maybe a four.”

Harry snorts. “What do we do?”

“I’m not sure,” she admits quietly, watching Hermione still rummaging through Harry’s fridge, getting butterbeers for herself and Ron. “But he’s  _ got _ to stop wearing Chudley orange if he wants Hermione to shag him, he looks like a walking cantaloupe slice.”

Harry chokes on his firewhiskey, spluttering, some of it dripping down his chin. Ginny laughs, turning towards him and wiping his face with a napkin muttering, “You’re such a mess, Potter.”

Harry instinctively leans in and kisses Ginny quickly, smiling at her. Just then, Hermione rejoins them at the island in Harry’s kitchen. Hermione lets out a sigh as she places the butterbeer bottles on the table, and they both turn to her. “You two are so sweet together.” Just as she says it, her eyes dart towards Ron, who’s just emerged from the loo.

“Thanks,” says Ginny, noticing that Harry’s cheeks have turned pink. “That could be you and my brother, you know.”

Now Hermione’s cheeks flush, but Ginny doesn’t regret her bluntness because she seems to sit up straighter as Ron approaches them and scoots in next to her, offering a smile as he opens his butterbeer. “Thanks, Hermione,” he says, taking a sip.

“No problem,” she responds weakly, grabbing a chip.

Ginny leans into Harry, puts a hand on his thigh and whispers in his ear, “Should we turn it up a notch?”

Harry clears his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt, a clear indicator that she’d have to steer this ship all on her own. Ginny laughs. “You’re weak,” she says before turning back to Ron and Hermione, the former giving her an accusatory look.  

“So,” Hermione starts slowly. “Will your parents be at the party tonight, Harry?”

Harry nods, as Ginny sneakily slides her hand further up his thigh. He clears his throat again, Ginny holding back a laugh. “Yeah, yeah they will be,” he confirms.

“Brilliant,” says Ron, tapping his fingers against his butterbeer bottle. “Mum and Dad are excited to see them again. Do you reckon Dad will hound Lily about muggle stuff again?”

“Probably,” Ginny pipes up, and a brilliant thought possesses her. “But he  _ could  _ ask Hermione too, right, seeing as she’s also Muggleborn? You haven’t met our parents yet, have you, Hermione?”

Hermione gives Ginny a pointed look, catching on to what she’s doing. “No, I haven’t.”

“Oh, well, they’ll love you, of course,” Ginny replies. “Won’t they, Ron?”

Ron’s ears turn pink but he nods vehemently, glancing quickly at Hermione. “Definitely. If Dad starts bothering you too much about electricity just give me a warning sign and I’ll save you.”

Hermione chuckles nervously. “Oh, I’m sure I won’t need saving-”

“You might,” says Ginny, emptying her drink. “Besides, Ron needs to be of some use to someone, eh?”

Harry laughs, and Ginny avoids a chip thrown at her by Ron. Hermione, still looking sheepish, takes a large gulp of her butterbeer. “Watch it,” he warns Ginny. “Or I’ll return your birthday gift right now.”

“Only mine? Not Harry’s?” she inquires. “If you didn’t notice, he laughed in agreement. Looks like Hermione is the only one here who finds you of use.”

Hermione glowers at Ginny, who just smiles brightly back. Ron seems to ignore the latter part of her comment, as he just responds by saying, “I can return Harry’s as well.”

“Go ahead, mate,” Harry tells him, grabbing Ginny’s still moving hand on his thigh and grasp it in his own, bringing it to the top of the island, interlacing their fingers. Ginny shakes her head at Harry, disappointed in his refusal to engage in her antics, but then notices Ron quickly glances at Hermione’s limp hand next to her bottle, as though considering holding it. “But you don’t have too much time, the party starts in a quarter an hour.”

“You know what’s wrong with you two having a joint birthday party?” says Ron. “Aside from the fact that it’s a bit gross?”

“It’s not  _ gross _ , Ron, it makes everyone’s lives easier!” says Ginny indignantly. “Our birthdays are less than a fortnight apart. Having a party in the middle with a date that works for everyone just makes more sense.”

“Yeah, but what if people who are invited by you aren’t invited by Harry? Then they have to give Harry a gift as well so they don’t seem like a git. So essentially, the entire Harpies team is going to have to get Harry gifts and vice versa with Puddlemore and Ginny.”

“No they don’t,” denies Harry. “That’s ridiculous, there’s no obligation to buy a gift for someone you barely know-”

“But it’s insinuated, isn’t it?” Ron fights back, Hermione rolling her eyes.

Hermione interjects finally. “Of course not. No one would ever think either of them would expect something like that.”

“But I had to get them both gifts!” he complains.

“Well, you’re Ginny’s brother and Harry’s mate…” Hermione points out.

“You didn’t  _ have _ to,” Ginny says, and then takes on Ron’s voice to add, “You just did it so you  _ wouldn’t seem like a git. _ Well, too late on that one, we already know you are one.”

“Oh, ha  _ ha _ ,” Ron groans as Ginny and Harry high five with their free hands. Then he turns to Hermione. “Did you get a gift for each of them?”

“Of course,” she responds at once. “They’re both my friends.”

“But you’ve only just become close with Ginny recently!” Ron protests. “It’s not as if you were morally obligated like I was!”

“Morally obligated,” huffs Hermione. “It’d just be  _ kind _ , Ronald.”

In an attempt to mediate the situation, Ginny looks sympathetically at Ron and says, “Don’t worry. How about this, Ron: why don’t you return both mine and Harry’s gifts and use that money to take Hermione out on a proper date. Somewhere nice, mind you.”

Ron’s ears grow an even darker shade and Hermione looks frantic, and the air is uncomfortably heavy as Ron mutters, “Well, I…Er...”

“Well, anyway,” Ginny says casually, letting Hermione and Ron look at each other awkwardly. “I know one person who definitely got Harry a gift but not me.”

Harry looks at her, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Who?”

“Romilda,” she says, taking Harry’s glass and sipping a bit of his firewhiskey. 

“Romilda as in Romilda Vane? Your seeker?” Ron asks in surprise.

Harry scoffs. “Come off it, Ginny, she’s not  _ actually _ going to get me a gift.”

“A love potion, maybe,” contemplates Ginny as she pushes Harry’s glass back towards him. “Or she might just try to spike your drink.”

“Well, if you keep taking sips of my drinks then you’ll get some of that love potion, too.”

“Oi,” she says, letting go of his hand and pinching him. “Maybe I’ll just need to be the keeper of your drinks all night to be sure.”

“You are so-”

“Why would this Romilda girl try to spike Harry with a love potion?” Hermione asks. “And why wouldn’t she get you a gift, Ginny? You’re teammates!”

“Because, she’s obsessed with Harry,” Ginny explains as Harry shakes his head, exasperated. “Should’ve seen her face when she found out we were dating.  _ Priceless. _ ”

“She’s not  _ obsessed  _ with me,” Harry mutters. 

Ron snorts, shaking his head. “Good on you, mate,” he says, clearing his throat, “she’s fit.” 

Hermione’s jaw clenches and Ginny blanches. “Harry would never be interested in a Seeker who mistakes a bird for a snitch.”

“That’s true,” says Harry, putting an arm around Ginny. “I’m only interested in Chasers who played Seeker as a second in school. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Who said I was worried?” she asks sharply. “I’m not worried.” She pauses. “Although she  _ may  _ try to imperio you. Maybe we should change you into shield robes that Fred and George make. I’ll floo them-”

“Yeah, you’re not worried at all,” Harry laughs, kissing her temple. Just then, a doe patronus glides through the flat door and stops at Harry. The doe opens her mouth, and out comes Lily’s  voice saying, “We’re ready, love.” Then, she vanishes. Harry smiles and says, “Well, worried or not, it’s time to go.”

* * *

“Do you want me to handle it?”

Ginny looks up at Sirius, whose long black hair falls just above the shoulders of his black leather jacket. He is the only one there dressed in Muggle clothes. And although it’s a bit sick to think it, she understands the effect Sirius has on everyone in the room. She sighs in defeat and nods. If anyone can deter Romilda from Harry, Sirius can. 

Harry really is trying, she knows. He’s desperately trying, in fact. But his mixture of awkwardness and politeness has him backed against a wall, both literally and figuratively. 

“Give it a go, I’m sure you’ll be more successful than I was.”

Sirius pats her on the back, striding forward. “Follow me,” he whispers to her. She obeys, and as they draw closer to her boyfriend and her teammate Sirius says, “Oi, godson!”

Harry looks at Sirius, his eyes pleading. Ginny smiles as he mouths, “Help me.” They approach them and Sirius puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Your mother is requesting your presence with your lovely, charming girlfriend over here. Something about pictures or whatnot. Don’t worry, I’ll keep...Romilda, is it? I’ll keep Romilda busy while you’re gone.”

Harry very audibly sighs in relief, and Ginny holds back a laugh. “Oh, er, thanks, Sirius,” he mutters. He turns to Romilda, “Well, thanks for coming,” he tells her, giving her a weak smile. He holds up a hand as to wave and he moves towards Ginny. 

And although Romilda  _ does  _ flash a brief look of interest at Sirius, she’s still watching Harry. And then, startling her, Harry very abruptly grabs Ginny’s face and kisses her full on the mouth enthusiastically. His lips are against hers for much shorter then she’d like, but when he pulls away she catches Romilda’s bright red face, and Sirius’s amused. “C’mon, let’s go,” Harry whispers, almost urgently, and grabs her hand, trying to pull her away. 

But Ginny’s feet are still planted in the ground as she says, “Hang on. Sirius, don’t you think that Mrs. Potter is going to want you in the pictures as well?”

Sirius puts a hand on his chin, stroking his scruff. “You know what, that is an  _ excellent  _ point, Ginevra. We don’t want to witness Lily’s wrath. Well, lovely meeting you, Romilda.”

And he walks toward them, patting Harry on the back, leading them away from the scene. Ginny lets out a laugh, squeezing Harry’s hand as he laughs too. “Don’t say you told me so.”

“I won’t say it,” she assures him. “I’ll just tell your mum to make a last minute change and put it on the cake in frosting.”

“Fair deal,” he murmurs, while Sirius lets out a bark of laughter and high-fives Ginny. “I know you lot made that up, but Mum  _ does  _ probably want us to take pictures.”

“You’re probably right,” Sirius remarks. “Why don’t you two go find Hermione and the tall one-”

“Ron,” Harry tells him as Ginny snorts. 

“Right,” Sirius says, waving a hand. “And then we’ll just get on with it. I’ll go grab Remus, Tonks, and Teddy.”

Sirius stalks off through the crowd towards the other end of the party hall, where Ginny spots a head of short pink hair. Harry kisses Ginny’s forehead and asks, “Did you see Ron or Hermione while I was trapped?”

Ginny furrows her eyebrows, scanning the room. “Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen either of them for a bit.”

“Neither have I,” Harry says. “And I’ve been desperately hoping one of them would pass by and be my savior before you two stepped in.”

“Hm. Maybe they’re outside?” 

Ginny steers Harry through the tent to its exit. A few people were outside chatting; Fred and George were putting on a show of flinging garden gnomes. Neither Ron nor Hermione in sight, Harry nudges his head towards the back door, suggesting they look inside the Burrow. Ginny pulls open the screen door and Harry searches the kitchen. “Huh,” he grunts. 

“Let’s just check the living room, and if we don’t find them there they’ll just have to live with the pain of being left out forever,” Ginny shrugs, and Harry chuckles as they walk towards the living room. 

They get to the door and push it open, and there they see them, on the couch: freckled fingers threading through bushy brown hair, Ron’s lips moving furiously over Hermione’s, Hermione’s hands gripping Ron’s orange collar-

They only see it for a millisecond though, because Hermione rips herself away as fast as she can, quickly putting her hands in her lap and avoiding their gaze as Ron sits there, looking quite like a fish out of water. 

“Er,” Harry stammers at the same time that Ginny shouts, “FINALLY!”

“Bloody hell,” Ron utters quietly, snapped back into reality, removing his hands from Hermione, his ears quite suddenly scarlet. “What do you want?”

Harry, who appears to be embarrassed by what they’ve just walked in on, starts, “Er, well, we were going to...take pictures...but, er-”

Ginny, not being able to help herself, interrupts her boyfriend. “Don’t worry about it, though. This,” she says, waving her hand around in an oval as to envelop Ron and Hermione, “is  _ much  _ more important than photographs. Yes, please get back to your business, be safe, Harry and I will see you much, much later-”

“No, stop, it’s fine,” says an abashed Hermione quietly, attempting to tame her wild mane. “Let’s take pictures-”

“No, Hermione, we  _ insist _ ,” Ginny says, grasping Harry’s arm and dragging him back out of the living room with her. “We’ll take pictures next year. Cheers!” 


	4. Fall

“Harry,” she says softly, running a hand through his hair. “Harry, wake up.”

He twitches slightly as she watches his chest rise and fall. She can’t stop the guilt that’s eating at her for keeping Harry waiting all night on the couch. When she shakes his shoulder slightly, he wakes, startled. He adjusts his glasses automatically and then processes Ginny’s presence. He smiles, reaching a hand out and touching her cheek. “You’re home.”

She melts into his touch, reveling in the feel of his calloused fingers on her face again. “Sorry, I’m late. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting up.”

Harry shakes his head, his sleepy smile still plastered on his face, eyes fluttering. “S’alright.”

Ginny takes hold of his arm. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

Harry groans but complies, lifting himself off the couch while clutching onto his girlfriend. Ginny leads him to their room, taking off his glasses for him and putting them on the bedside table. Half-asleep Harry is quite similar to drunk Harry, so Ginny is ready to help him undress and get into the bed. But Harry, fighting his clear exhaustive state, grabs hold of her waist, his emerald eyes glossy with sleep but sparkling behind their glaze. He leans in and kisses her softly once, twice, then with more force, pushing her as close to him as possible, causing a drop in her stomach and a lump in her throat, moaning for more. And he delivers, dragging her with him to the bed, still not breaking the kiss. Ginny laughs softly, causing Harry to laugh. “What?” he asks against her, his breath warm.

She opens her eyes so she could get a good look at him. It doesn’t look like he’s shaved in a few days, and he’s got lines on his face from falling asleep on the couch with his glasses on. She puts her finger against one of them, tracing it. “I’m just happy to be home.”

He grins, kissing her again briefly. “I missed you. Why does Wales have to be so far away?”

“More like: why does Gwenog have to put us into a weeklong, overnight boot camp every pre-season?”

“I’m surprised Oliver doesn’t do that to us, to be quite honest,” Harry says, stifling a yawn. “How was it?”

Ginny caresses his face, sighing contently. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, love. You’re exhausted, and so am I-”

“But-” Harry tries, rubbing his eyes.

“Shirt,” she interrupts him.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Ginny grabs hold of the hem of Harry’s t-shirt. “Arms up,” she orders. He huffs out a sigh and does as he’s told, and Ginny pulls the shirt off over his head, placing it in her lap. Then, she takes off her own shirt and her bra, to which Harry smiles mischievously, only to quickly turn into a frown when she takes his t-shirt that’s sitting in her lap and puts it on herself.

“I thought you were undressing for a more fun reason,” he pouts.

“Tomorrow,” she promises, as she kicks off her trainers. “First thing.”

Harry follows her lead, removing his shoes and socks slowly. “And why are you still stealing my shirts for bed? And right off my back... Wasn’t the whole point of you moving in here with me so that you’d have your own clothes at your constant disposal?”

She scoffs at him, throwing their socks in the hamper. “I thought it was so that I could steal your shirts for bed more _often_.”

“Ha.”

“And so that we could actually see each other whenever we have a break from our hectic schedules. And,” she kisses him before she adds, “because we love each other or something like that.”

Harry grins. “Yeah, something like that.”

She returns the smile. “Alright, now pants off.”

After they’re in their preferred state of dress for sleeping, Ginny washes her face and brushes her teeth. When she returns to the bedroom, she finds Harry curled up on his side facing the opposite wall, one leg over the blanket, one leg under. She climbs into the bed, holding the blanket out silently for Harry to put his exposed leg beneath it, which he does. When she gets underneath the blanket herself, she hears Harry mumble something.

“Sorry?”

“Little spoon,” he whispers more clearly this time.

Ginny laughs softly. “You want to be little spoon?”

“Mhm.”

She turns and plasters her body against his back, drapes one leg over one of his, puts an arm around his waist and kisses his shoulder. “Good?”

Harry hums in confirmation, snuggling closer to her, his messy hair tickling her nose. “Night,” he mumbles. Ginny feels Harry fall back asleep almost immediately against her, and from her mixture of exhaustion from the week and relief at being entangled again with Harry, she feels her mind go blissfully blank.

 

* * *

Harry stands up abruptly, making all three of them jump. “I’m done talking about this,” he states matter-of-factly. He throws down his napkin, pushes his chair back, strides down the hall, and slams the bedroom door shut.

Ginny winces, feeling slightly embarrassed. Hermione gives her a sympathetic look. “He’s always been like this, even when we were kids. Don’t take it too personally.”

She nods, knowing Hermione is right, as she’s seen him like this about other things. But she still feels discomfort and guilt deflating her chest. “Was I totally out of line?”

“Well-” Hermione starts, but Ron shoots her a sharp glance. “What?”

“I know you _get_ Harry, Hermione, but you don’t get Quidditch,” he tells her, trying and failing to sound kind, he realizes, as Hermione crosses her arms.

“Great, now we’re both in trouble,” Ron tries joking, but Ginny doesn’t crack a smile. He sighs, slumping back in his chair. “Look, you weren’t bang out of order or anything...but clearly something about Tutshill makes him uncomfortable.”

“Do you know what it is, then?” she asks miserably.

Ron shrugs. “No clue, Gin,” he admits, and then goes back to shoveling food into his mouth. Hermione and Ginny share looks of disgust, and then Ginny stands up. “I’m going after him.”

“Do you want us to leave?” Hermione inquires.

“No, stay,” she tells them. “Unless you _want_ to leave.”

Hermione looks at her boyfriend happily eating with a mixture of amusement and revulsion. “I’m not going to take Ron away from his food, so we’ll stay for now.”

Ginny nods, then turns and walks down the hall toward their bedroom. She knocks but does not wait for a reply, wrenching the door open. Harry is sitting on the edge of his side of the bed, looking out the window. Ginny closes the door behind her and stands there, unsure of her next move. All she’s able to say is, “Well?”

Harry doesn’t turn around, he just responds, “Well, what?” agitation etched in his voice.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Harry,” she tries gently. But when she’s only met with silence, she speaks again, exasperated. “But was that really necessary? Storming out like that?”

“Was it really necessary to keep pressing me on the topic when I clearly was uncomfortable and wanted to drop it?” he fires back, finally turning to look at her. The sharpness behind his features cut her a bit, but she is determined to not let her feelings get the best of her.

“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” she decides to admit. “But why don’t you tell me what this is really about.”

“What do you mean?” he asks shortly, an eyebrow raised.

She gets her feet to move towards the bed and sits at the edge of the foot of it. “What about the topic gets you this way? This is a normal discussion bound to happen to anyone during their career, Quidditch or not.”

Harry looks like he might shout at her, but instead he lets out an elongated sigh. “I don’t know, Gin.”

Against her better judgment, Ginny scoots over closer to him and puts a hand on his. He does not tense under her touch, so she takes that as a green light. “Did the meeting go that poorly?”

Harry shakes his head. “It went...fine.”

“Define ‘fine’ for me.”

“Fine means satisfactory. Pretty simple vocabulary.”

Ginny elbows him, and that emits a small chuckle from him. “Shut off your sass for approximately five minutes, please?” Ginny requests.

“That’s a lot to ask,” he replies, and then interlaces his fingers with hers. “By fine I mean...I mean, they _really_ want me on the team. And are offering me...a _lot_ of money.”

Ginny rubs her thumb gently against the back of his hand. “So what’s the problem?”

Harry sighs again, looking away from her and looking down at his knees. “I just...the Tornadoes are a great team, obviously. And I’d love to win the league. But it just…”

“Your heart is with Puddlemore,” she finishes for him.

He nods. “Yeah. I can’t...I can’t imagine leaving. I’ve been dreaming about playing for them since I was a kid....I’m so happy there, why would I want to screw that up?”

Ginny doesn’t respond, but just continues to stroke his hand.

Ginny’s lack of response causes Harry to look back at her. “Do you think I’m being a complete git?”

She smiles gently at him. “No, I think you’re a sentimental sod, and I love that about you.”

“And you also don’t want me to be on a team that’s better than the Harpies,” he jokes.

“I resent that.”

“But I’m still being stupid if I turn down this offer from the Tornadoes, right?”

“I didn’t say that. But...you could be a bit less tactless.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you haven’t outright rejected them yet, have you?”

“No, I told them I’d need to think about it. Even though I don’t _really_ need to, but...”

“Ok, good,” Ginny tells him. “So this is what you do. You keep them waiting. You let Oliver know that they gave you an offer and you’re considering. Get him to ask how much- it’ll be in the press soon enough anyway. Make Puddlemore sweat and have them make you a higher offer to renew your contract. Turn the Tornadoes down graciously. Boom. Best of both worlds.”

“I’m not that slick,” he grins.

She smiles back. “I’ll coach you.”

Harry abruptly unlinks their hands and hugs her tightly. She hugs him back, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles against her hair. “About before.”

“All is forgiven,” she exhales, holding him tighter. “Although maybe you should still apologize to the two lovebirds out there; you stormed out on them too.”

Harry moves his head, leans in and kisses Ginny gently for only a few short moments, although it’s enough to make her lightheaded. He lets go of her with a reluctant smile. “You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?” she asks as they get up off the bed. They walk back into the hall and they almost bump into Ron and Hermione, Ron holding a half-eaten chicken leg in one hand as they stare at a wall. Ginny clears her throat.

Ron turns to them. “We weren’t eavesdropping,” he says quickly, then takes another bite of the chicken leg.

Ginny snorts. “Likely.”

“I mean,” he says mid-chew, “We were plannin’ to, bu-”

“Ronald!” Hermione exclaims, turning towards them. “ _I_ wasn’t planning on eavesdropping, anyway-”

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry says. “Look, both of you, er...I’m sorry for before. I shouldn’t have been so rude and stormed out-”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” she tells him, waving a hand.

“No worries, mate,” Ron says after swallowing his previous bite of chicken.

“So if you were originally planning on eavesdropping,” Ginny asks. “What deterred you?”

Ron nods back to the wall they were staring at, which has the poster of Harry that Ginny had had stored in her closet, and Ginny’s cover of Witch Weekly that Harry had kept (though they enlarged this to be more poster-like), side by side. It was almost as if their poster-selves were flirting with each other on the wall. “How narcissistic _are_ you two?”

* * *

Ron, Hermione and the twins hug them both goodbye before disapparating from the stadium, leaving Harry and Ginny to face the situation. She can tell, even through his mask of nonchalance, that he’s thoroughly disappointed. Ginny, for some reason, had never really considered how playing against each other might cause tension between them. Nevertheless, he turns to her once they’ve gone, his smile timid but determined not to waver. “Good match,” he congratulates her.

She can’t help but wince. “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” he asks weakly. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“But-” she tries, yet is interrupted.

“C’mon,” he says, no emotion in his voice. He reaches out a hand. “Let’s go home.”

She nods, grasping his hand. She feels the sensation of being squeezed into nothingness, and then they’re at their flat door. Harry let’s go of her hand, flicks his wand and the door unlocks. He pulls open the door and strides in, holding it open for her but not looking back. “Thanks,” she whispers.

The door closes loudly behind them and Harry puts his broom down and strides towards the kitchen cabinet, opening it up and taking out two glasses. “Want some water?” he asks casually.

“Sure,” she responds as she places her broom next to his and takes off her gloves. She sits down on a stool by the island as Harry turns on the faucet, filling up their glasses. He flicks his wand and some of the water transforms into ice, sinking to the bottom. He flicks his wand again and sends her glass over to her, gently landing on the island’s marble surface right before Ginny’s hands. “Thanks,” she mutters, taking it in her hands but not drinking any as she watches Harry, still standing by the sink, draining his glass of water rather quickly. He wipes his forehead with his arm and then turns to refill his glass again. Ginny can’t take it anymore. “Stop,” she says abruptly.

He shuts the faucet off and turns to her, his face impassive. “Stop filling my glass up with water?”

“No, wanker,” she almost shouts, frustration burning her face. “Stop...being weird. Stop acting like you aren’t upset.”

He gives her an inquisitive look, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “You want me to be cross?”

“No, I don’t _want_ you to be, but being cross is a normal Harry response. I can handle that. I _know_ that. This...aloofness? I’m not a fan.”

Harry actually chuckles softly at that. “But I’m _not_ cross. Not with you, at least,” he says. She wants him to move closer, but he stays there, leaning against the sink. “I’m cross with myself, obviously. You shouldn’t have to get the brunt of it.”

Ginny tries to think of a response, but comes up short. Harry drains his second glass of water, puts the glass down and says gruffly, “I’m going to take a shower, I feel disgusting.”

He offers her half a smile, then leaves Ginny alone in the kitchen. For lack of knowing what else to do, she drinks the glass of water Harry gave her. She hears Harry rummaging around their room as she taps her dirty nails against the countertop, and then shortly after hears his footsteps lead into the bathroom and turn on the shower.

She waits approximately three minutes before she makes up her mind. She storms into the bathroom without so much as a knock, causing a bit of a yelp from Harry and an exasperated look from behind the glass sliding door. “Bloody hell, Gin, warn a bloke!”

“Harry, you catch the snitch virtually every time you play, you’re bound to slip up _sometimes_. I mean, I know it’s a blow because it’s Romilda, and she’s rubbish, but I’m not going to let you drown yourself in the shower over it!”

Harry opens the sliding door a bit so he can see her a bit clearly, wiping his eyes so shampoo suds don’t sting them. “I know, I just can’t help but be hard on myself.” He pauses, then says, “I’m sure Tutshill is thankful they dodged a bullet with me now, huh?”

“Don’t be thick,” she sneers. When Harry just shakes his head, she continues on. “She got lucky,” Ginny reassures him. “She saw the snitch before you did with enough time to catch it, and even so you were literally just a millimeter behind her practically, you gave her a good fight.”

Harry sighs, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. “But it’s my fault that I didn’t see it first. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Ginny raises an eyebrow at him. “What were you doing then?”

He glances at her, cheeks pink. “I was...watching you, actually. You made that spectacular goal on the left post...I felt bad for Oliver, because he was so close, but I was just...looking at you with pride. The one moment I stop searching for the snitch, Romilda spots it. She was already halfway through her dive before I noticed...the Firebolt can only get me so far.”

Ginny feels her heart inflating in her chest, the bright green of his eyes making it swell at an even more alarming rate than usual. She doesn’t know what to say, but she blurts out, “Oh, Harry. I love you, you big prat.”

He laughs heartily and tells her, “I love you too,” water droplets cascading down his body. It’s really quite a sight, she thinks. “And you can count my love as a contributing factor to your win. So stop being worried that I’m angry with you. I’m just frustrated with myself for letting you make me lose my focus.” He grins and runs his head under the water again.

Ginny watches him for a few moments, then, on an overwhelming impulse, strips off her own clothes. Harry’s face, through the water, lights up with amusement. Ginny pulls the sliding door open more and hops in with him, pulling him close to her under the water, her hair instantly drenched.

“Yes?” he says, arms snaking around her bare body.

“Why don’t I make you lose your focus again,” she suggests, planting a kiss to his mouth and letting a hand trail down his wet skin dangerously low, “ _and_ help you let out some of that frustration, eh?”

* * *

“Those two are so weird.” She flicks the page of the _Prophet_ she’s reading, looking over at her brother on the reclining chair. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“Soon, I suppose,” Ron says, leaning back and drinking his butterbeer. “Gotta let them have their muggle activity time.”

“They said the film was two hours long.”

“Well, you have to account for travel time,” Ron explains. “And previews are an extra half an hour.”

Ginny groans, folding the newspaper and throwing it on the coffee table. “This is torture.”

Ron snorts. “Glad you enjoy spending quality time with your brother so much.”

“It’d be more fun if you weren’t so bloody good at Wizard chess,” she points out. “Losing three games in a row is not exactly my idea of enjoyment.”

“Hey, you got the Quidditch genes, it’s only fair that I’m better than you at _something_.”

“C’mon, just play one game of Exploding Snap with me,” she pleads, hugging herself. She breathes in Harry’s lingering scent from his jumper she’s wearing. “I’ll go easy on you.”

“Nuh uh, we can’t be trusted to play Exploding Snap alone, you know that,” he scolds her. “Harry and Hermione seem to think our competitions need close supervision.”

Ginny snorts, dramatically draping herself along the couch cushions. “Lucky Wizard chess is so boringly safe.”

Just then a _crack_ reverberates from the other side of the door, followed by excited chatter. The door opens and Ginny peers her head up excitedly. She sees Hermione walk in first, spot Ginny, and then her eyes widen in worry, and she stops Harry from walking in any further, blocking him from view. “Ginny!” Hermione suddenly sends a sharp glare at Ron. “Ron, I thought you two were supposed to be at The Leaky Cauldron,” she says in a tight voice.

“Yeah, we got back an hour ago,” he answers, standing up from his seat. “What’s the prob-” He stops, catching Hermione’s expression. Sudden understanding dawns on Ron’s face, but of what Ginny did not know. She sits up to get a better look at the situation, and she sees Harry’s worried face right above Hermione’s bushy hair as he whispers in her ear, _“Distract her.”_

“What’s going on?” she asks sharply, staring daggers at Harry but he’s avoiding her gaze.

“Nothing,” quips Hermione, walking quickly forward toward them. Ginny tries to catch Harry’s eye but he’s walking fast toward their room, both of his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his muggle jacket. Hermione hugs Ginny as to draw her attention away as Ron says, “Hey, Gin, since we have supervision now, what about that game of Exploding Snap?”

“What’s up with Harry?” she demands, pulling away from Hermione, looking at the both of them sternly.

“What are you talking about?” Ron asks, putting an arm around Hermione, kissing her temple. “He probably just needs the loo or something. Last time they dragged us to a film he got that large pop and spent thirty minutes of the film deciding if he should hold it in or run to the loo, and then when he finally did he missed something really important, remember?”

Hermione laughs, leaning into Ron. Ginny smiles for a moment, watching them, feeling her heart melt a bit seeing how natural they are together. And then she feels a rush of gratitude for Harry, not only for making _her_ life better but by introducing someone else to make Ron’s life better, too. _Their_ lives better.

“Yeah, he got a large pop again and then drank the rest of mine,” Hermione confirms. “His thirst is bigger than his bladder, that one.”

And even though Ginny is almost positive she saw Harry tell Hermione to distract her, her mission is quickly lost as she looks at Ron. Ginny can tell the rest of the world has dissolved as Ron looks back down at her, and they mirror each other’s beaming expressions. And so, reluctantly, Ginny drops her interrogation and agrees to a game of Exploding Snap with her brother once he tears his eyes away from his girlfriend, and as he sets up the game and Harry returns, greeting her with a short “hi” and a kiss, she doesn’t say anything about how he must not have actually gone to the bathroom, as no flushing sound was heard. Rather, she just gives him a pointed look that he knows is to say, _I know you’re up to something but I won’t question you further for now, I suppose._ He grins at her, and he and Hermione give a synopsis of the film as Ron and Ginny play their game. After around an hour or so, Harry and Ginny walk Ron and Hermione to the door as they bid their goodbyes and disapparate back to Hermione’s flat.

Ginny’s about to begin her interrogation when Harry grabs her face and begins kissing her forcefully. Caught off guard, her defenses lift and she falls into the kiss, realizing how desperate she’s been all day for the feel of him as he presses her against the door. After some time a voice in her head reminds her she has some questioning to do, but her mouth is quite busy, so it’ll just have to wait.

Harry moves his mouth to her throat, working his magic there, doing things that have a one-hundred percent success rate, when Ginny forces herself to speak. “You can only distract me,” she coughs out, raspy, struggling to regulate her breathing, “for so long.”

“I know,” he mumbles against her neck, working his way down.

Ginny closes her eyes, threading her fingers through his hair. “As long as you’re aware.”

Harry emits a sound of understanding, then picks Ginny up and walks them to their bedroom. “Very,” he smiles brightly. They enter the room and he lays her down on the bed. Ginny waits with her eyes closed for him to dive back in, but when his lips have yet to reach hers, she opens her eyes and sees him beaming still. There’s such a strong twinkle in his green eyes behind their spectacles, it almost causes a glare.

“What?” she asks, tightening her legs around him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He snickers, and gently moves a piece of hair out of Ginny’s eyes, the feel of this tender gesture causing her throat to constrict with longing. “I just like looking at you.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “I mean, who doesn’t?”

“Good point,” he agrees, running a hand down her body. “I love you.”

“I know.” She’s growing impatient at his ministrations. “Actions speak louder than words though, my dear,” she tells him as she drags his face down towards hers.

A while later, when they are under the covers, sweaty bodies bare and entangled, breathing heavily with eyes closed, she _tries_ to get something out of him. But Harry keeps shushing her, saying he wants a nap. Ginny prods him. “I _saw_ you whisper to Hermione to distract me. I know you’re up to something.”

“Hm,” is all he responds, tightening his grip around her.

“I can find out on my own, you know,” she starts, pinching him. “I can get it out of Hermione if I really wanted to.”

“I know you could,” he acknowledges. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now stop with the interrogation, I want to relish in the pleasure you just so graciously gave me and allow myself to rest peacefully in the limited time I have with you throughout the day. Is that alright?”

Ginny sighs but concedes. “Fine,” she says, and leans up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “This isn’t over, though.”

“Sh,” he tells her, though a smile plays at his lips.

He falls asleep within a few minutes, and Ginny can tell by the change in the rhythm of his breathing. She does her best to untangle herself from his limbs without waking him, puts on her robe, casts _muffliato_ , and begins her investigation. She knows whatever he’s got for whatever he’s up to is in the bedroom, and the first place she decides to look is his discarded jacket on the floor, as his hands were hidden too securely in its pockets when he first came in. Nothing is in them, so she begins searching in other likely places: the pockets of his discarded pants, the bedside table, their closet, the dresser, but she comes up short. She takes out her wand and whispers multiple variations of, “ _Accio_ whatever Harry got me,” but knowing none of them would work.

Sighing in slight defeat after around half an hour of searching, she decides that an invasion of privacy is warranted, guilt be damned. She convinces herself to continue knowing that Harry would expect her to do this and wouldn’t be cross. She opens the small trunk Harry keeps under his side of the bed with his most prized possessions: his invisibility cloak, a photo album of his parents, his two-way mirror from Sirius, a map, and his mokeskin pouch. She notices that the mokeskin pouch isn’t fully closed, which means she could open it and search its contents. She empties it and finds only 2 things in it; the first being a photograph of Harry and Ginny that Hermione had taken of them in the spring a few weeks after they began dating, which she knew he kept in there and smiled fondly at it, placing it aside gently. The second thing she finds is a small, velvet box. Realization waves over her like a tsunami; she doesn’t even need to open it. “ _Oh shit_.”

 


	5. Winter...Five Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final chapter of this story. Thank you so much for reading and commenting and giving kudos- they all mean so much to me. I struggled a bit with this chapter as it's kinda cheesy but I guess we all gotta indulge in the cheesiness every now and then. I hope you like it.

“Can you believe it’s been six years since we met?” 

“I know. It feels so much longer,” says Harry. He smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.”

“ _ Merlin _ , get a room!” Ginny exclaims as the two embrace.

“I swear, Ron gets more sentimental about his anniversary with Harry than with me,” Hermione tells her. 

“Even though they both have me to thank,” Ginny snorts.

Harry and Ron separate, Ron throwing a grimace at Ginny. “Hey,  _ we  _ became mates before you two even started dating. You didn’t even want to go to the pub with us! And would you two even be  _ together  _ if we didn’t stay friends and invite him to Fred and George’s party?”

“But you wouldn’t have  _ met  _ him if I wasn’t a Quidditch player!”

“I think we would’ve met anyway,” says Harry. “It was meant to be.”

Hermione and Ron laugh as Ginny rolls her eyes at them, though she feels utterly happy. “C’mon,” she says, reaching out for Harry’s hand. “Let’s say goodbye to the boys.”

Harry clasps hands with his wife, and Hermione and Ron follow them down the hall. Lily is attempting to feed Rose and Albus, who are both laughing and clapping, while James is sitting with his namesake, drawing something alongside him at the table, concentrating hard. Harry walks over to the two, complimenting his son’s picture. James excitedly shows his father his in-progress masterpiece and Ginny watches them, her heart swelling with love. Then she hears adult James whine, “What about my picture?” which causes Lily to roll her eyes dramatically.

Ron laughs at Rose and Albus, their food-clad hands and faces as they giggle together. “These two are going to be best mates,” he predicts, leaning over and planting a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. Rose grabs his nose tightly which causes Albus to screech with joy. Ginny looks at her youngest son and sighs. “I’m going to miss him.”

“It’ll only be a few hours, dear,” Lily reassures her as she successfully gets a spoonful of food into Albus’s mouth as Ron breaks free from his daughter’s hold. Albus’s wide, emerald green eyes find Ginny’s, and as he swallows his food he reaches for her. 

She moves closer to him and touches his face, smiling at how much he resembles his father, having both his and Lily’s eyes. She plants a kiss on his cheek. “Mummy and Daddy will be back soon, Al.”

“Don’t worry,” Ron says, putting an arm around his sister as she pulls away from her son. “Rosie will look after him. She’s only nine months old and she’s already more mature than me.”

Hermione hands Ron his cloak, then fastens her own before swooping down and kissing Rose goodbye. “Thanks so much again, Lily.”

“Of course, kids. Anytime, you know that,” she says. Then she turns to Ginny. “Did you speak to Sirius?”

Ginny nods. “Spoke to him through Harry’s mirror a bit ago, he only had a minute but he sends his love.”

“Good,” Lily replies. She reaches out and squeezes Ginny’s arm. “I’m sure you’ll do great tonight, sweetheart. We’ll be listening on the wireless.”

Ginny smiles, feeling conflicted. She’s excited and nervous and doesn’t want to leave her sons. Harry walks over to her, carrying their eldest. “Wish Mummy good luck, James.”

“G’luck!” he manages, reaching out and tugging on a piece of her hair. 

“Thanks, baby,” she whispers, kissing his head. “You’re going to be good while we’re gone, right? And helpful to Grandmum and Granddad?”

He nods his head in an exaggerated fashion, and Harry kisses him as well before putting him down. “And look after your brother and cousin, yeah?”

James nods again before puddering back off to his drawing at the table with his grandfather, who shouts to Ginny, “Kick some arse out there, Weasley!”

“James, there are children here  _ besides you _ , you have to watch your language _.  _ We’re trying to keep them free of your corruption for as long as possible!” Lily scowls, and they all laugh.

Harry hugs and kisses his mother before he walks over to Albus, and then Lily hugs Ginny, giving her more words of encouragement. Albus begins to cry as they walk towards the door, and Ginny stops in her tracks. “He needs me-”

Ron steers her back toward the door. “Don’t be thick, Lily’s got him. You don’t want to be late, do you?”

Harry intertwines his fingers with hers, giving her reassuring pressure. “He’ll be alright,” he whispers, leading them out the door. “We’ve left James alone for this long plenty of times and he’s turned out alright so far, hasn’t he? I mean, relatively speaking. So will Al.”

She reluctantly follows, trying to drown out the sound of Albus’s cries as she returns the pressure to Harry’s hand. She’d only been leaving for short periods of time over the past few weeks to return to practice while Harry stayed with the kids, schedule permitting, but this was her first game back on the field.

They close the door of the Godric’s Hollow cottage behind them, and Ginny exhales deeply. Hermione grabs her hand and the four of them twist on the spot into nothingness. 

They apparate right outside the stadium, and Ginny is surprised to see almost her entire family waiting there for her: Molly, Arthur, Bill and Fleur, Percy, Fred and George. Molly and Arthur immediately walk forward, and she sighs with relief as their arms envelop her. They tell her Charlie sends his best and wishes he could be there. Luna is there too, decked out in Harpies gear. After all greetings are exchanged, and Fred and George chastise Ron for wearing a Chudley Cannon jersey while they’re all decked out in Harpies gear (“ _ They need some moral support! It’s not like they’re going to win, anyway! Ginny’s fine with it!),  _ the twins give a rather encouraging speech about how she has nothing to worry about because she would score more than all three Cannons chasers combined with her eyes closed. The family wishes their final “good luck”s and goes off to their seats in the topbox, but Harry lags behind to have one more moment alone. 

Ginny falls into Harry’s arms, and they hold each other for a few long moments. “You’re going to be brilliant,” he says confidently. “Their record has been suffering without you, you know that.”

She nods against him, breathing him in to sooth her nerves. He removes his chin from atop her head and places his hands firmly on the sides of her face, fingers behind her head and in her hair. “Remember your first game back after James was born? You remember the score, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She smiles meekly. “It was 390 to 60.”

“And how many of those points were yours?”

She bites her lip. “I think it was 130?”

Harry laughs, and she feels the vibrations of his chest against her own. “You think?”

“Ok, I  _ know _ , I was on fire,” she concedes. “Happy?”

“Yes,” he whispers before dipping his head down to kiss her. “You’ve got this, Gin.”

She pushes herself up to kiss him again, but just moments later they hear a voice call out, “Oi, no Puddlemore players permitted back here!”

They pull apart, Ginny groaning but Harry chuckling. “Sorry, Jones,” he calls back, letting go of Ginny. He smiles at her one last time. “Bring it home.”

* * *

She’s rocking Albus to sleep when Harry taps lightly on the doorframe of the nursery. “James is all bathed and clean and wants to show you what he’s wearing to sleep.”

She cranes her neck a bit to see James hiding behind his father. “Let me see,” she says quietly.

James jumps out from behind his father’s legs right towards his mother, and then jumps into a stance for her to see; he’s decked out in Holyhead Harpies pajamas. “I’m you, Mummy!”

She gasps. “Oh my god, you precious  _ boy _ ,” she swoons, putting one arm out for him to run into. She kisses him all over his face before asking, “Did you choose to wear these yourself?”

He nods, smiling widely.

“He said he wanted to wear Mummy’s team’s pajamas since she won her big match today,” Harry chimes in. “Didn’t even  _ look  _ at his Puddlemore ones.”

“He’s so smart,” she says, before kissing his face again. She runs her fingers through his hair and looks down at him. “Why doesn’t Daddy read you a story in bed while I finish putting Al to sleep, and then I’ll come and tuck you in, alright?”

“Ok,” says James, and then he leans over and very gently presses a kiss to his little brother’s head. Albus’s eyes flutter as James pulls away and walks back over to his father, taking his hand and steering him out of the room.

Ginny sighs happily as she continues to rock Albus in her arms. Once he’s finally asleep she places him gently in his crib and joins her other two boys in James’s room. She sits next to him on the bed as Harry continues reading  _ Babbitty Rabbitty _ . Ginny tucks James, who is struggling to keep his eyes open, more tightly into bed as Harry finishes the story. They kiss him goodnight and go downstairs, and Ginny plops down on the sofa, groaning. “I’m  _ beat _ .”

Harry sits down next to her, planting his mouth softly on her neck. Ginny emits a low, content sigh as he litters gentle kisses up her throat, across her jaw, then against her lips. “You were brilliant today,” he whispers against her. “As we knew you would be.”

Ginny kisses him in response, lightly scratching the back of Harry’s neck.

“And Al survived,” he says when they part. 

Ginny pinches his neck hard. “Not funny.”

Harry chuckles, his thumb stroking her cheek. “It’s a little funny.”

He reaches into his pocket for his wand and flicks it towards the kitchen. A container of ice cream and two spoons zoom towards them: Ginny catching the container, Harry the spoons.”I like the way you think,” she says, ripping a spoon out of Harry’s hand and flinging the container cover off onto the coffee table. 

She digs in and practically moans as she puts the spoon in her mouth, causing Harry to chortle. He scoops some into his spoon as well, and they eat happily in silence for a few minutes. Then, Harry nudges her. “Mental that we met six years ago, eh?” he muses. “And this exact ice cream played a role in getting us where we are today.”

“But that was a few months later,” Ginny reminds him, taking another spoonful. “And technically we met seven years ago, I just was too afraid to talk to you then.”

“And now look at us.”

“Shacked up together with some spawn.”

“You really have a way with words.”

She licks her spoon slowly, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “You know, I’m thinking of going into writing maybe, if I ever decide to retire from Quidditch. So thanks for your flattery.”

Harry emits a low, involuntary groan. “My pleasure.”

Ginny laughs as she watches him gulp, his adam’s apple moving slowly. “Your pleasure is my pleasure, my love.”

“Is it?” 

She throws the container and their spoons on the coffee table, grabs his collar, and drags his mouth to hers again, and the vibration of Harry’s moan at the touch of her tongue sends shivers down her spine to her toes. She laughs. “Is that moan for the treacle taste, or me?”

“Both,” he snickers. “The two loves of my life.”

Before he can dive back in, Ginny fakes a gasp. “Not our  _ children _ ?”

Harry makes a noise of annoyance. “Ok fine, two out of the four loves of my life.”

“Better,” she smiles. “You may proceed.”

He scoffs, but kisses her anyway, his hands securely on her face, Quidditch calluses at home on her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers against her mouth in between kisses. “I’m so lucky. I’m so in love with you.”

Ginny smiles hard against him, and then extracts her face from his, still holding his shirt but putting space between their faces. An overwhelming wave of affection crashes against her ribs as she absorbs his words. She examines his face, which breaks out into a crooked smile. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she tells him, feeling her heart flutter even now at how vivid his green eyes are. She takes a hand and lightly traces the side of his face. Echoing a paraphrase of something Harry says often, she states, “I just want a minute to look at you.”

His smile widens, bright and beaming. “You can have as many minutes as you’d like. Enough to make up forever, in fact.”

“How corny,” she snorts lovingly.

“Hey, don’t blame me. Isn’t that in our wedding vows? Til death due us part? I didn’t come up with it!”

Ginny traces his shining face one more time before she pulls him into a forceful hug, burying her face into his neck. Harry laughs as he secures his arms around her, returning the pressure. When Ginny does not pull away, he almost whispers, “You alright?”

She nods, her chin digging into his shoulder. “Yeah,” she whispers back. “I love you.”

He kisses the top of her head and pulls her even closer to him, sighing happily. Keeping hold of him, she adjusts their position so that they’re lying down; Harry on his back, head against the arm rest; Ginny on her stomach, pressed up against her husband, eyes closed and content, allowing exhaustion to sweep over her. Next thing she knows she’s barely awake as Harry carries her to their room, laying her down on the bed, helping her undress as she’s done for him so many times, covering her up with the blankets before he joins her underneath them just a few minutes later, wrapping his arms around her middle, pulling her close to him, kissing her shoulder and whispering goodnight. And as she adjusts herself more snuggly against him, she thinks about that day they met after their match, and how much she wished she could just act cool instead of angry and aloof so she could love him like she fantasized for so long, possibly receiving his love in return, hoping that maybe it could live up to her expectations.

And now she does. And it exceeds them by light-years.


End file.
